Drums on the watch-tower have emptied the roads -At the frontier it's autumn; a wild-goose cries
This is a night in which dew becomes frost;
The moon is bright like it used to be at home
I have brothers, but they're scattered;
I have been thinking of the difference between water and the waves on it
Rising, water's still water, falling back, it is water, will you give me a hint how to tell them apart
Because someone has made up the word"wave," do I ha...
Thinking of you is pretty, hopeful,
It is like listening to the most beautiful song From the most beautiful voice on earth
But hope is not enough for me any more,
I don't want to listen to songs any more,
I was thinking of letters,
We all have a lot in our lifeA few good - a few
But mostly run of the mill-I suppose that's my
For writing to run of the mill people
In this evil year, autumn comes early…I walk by night in the field, alone, the rain clatters,
The wind on my hat…And you
And you, my friend
You are standing—maybe—and seeing the sickle
In the late night listening from bedI have joined the ambulance or the patrolscreaming toward some drama, the kind of endthat Berky must have some day, if she isn't dead
The wildest of all, her father and mother cruel,farming out there beyond...