Like a dark shadow, November walks over the dead autumn,
colorless time slips its slow song,
and the poetry of nature is muffled and deaf.
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#43. OLIVE TREE
In the labyrinth of my mind, darkness and light intermingle. The past is a shadow, the present a battle. But on the horizon shines a light...
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In an aged forest of shadows and faded tones, nature, faded and autumnal, curls up to die. The passing of November flies over with a silent ... -
Like a dark shadow, November walks over the dead autumn, colorless time slips its slow song, and the poetry of nature is muffled a...
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