The Ladies Dressed in Black and White

I saw a lady dressed in white

on a grey day of late fall —

she seemed like a vision, faintly lost,

softly arriving like an echo.

I saw a lady dressed in black

on a burning noon in June —

she moved like a shadow

that released a breath of wind,

and my soul was touched

by her unseen hand.

When the ladies in rainbow hues

appear to me,

the ordinary melts

upon the canvas of the seasons.

But those in black and white

halt our steps —

and we reflect,

not in glass,

but in the soul’s own mirror.

Her Smile

Her fragile smile took the dew

from the foliage without frost,

and in the morning of a clear day

it melted somewhere in an aeon.

April didn’t find it, and became angry

with the oaks;

it grew cold throughout

the month it was raining.

Leaves grew without the green of the soul;

the trees sprang

from a new circle.

Her smile bloomed sad

among flower petals in May.

May shares rays and colors,

and hides the jealousy of April

and her worries.

An Autumn Dream

I lived with an autumn dream

that left without me,

and I, like a madman, followed it

until the trees

and the feelings were undressed;

then I let it go.

Above the trees, grey clouds

climbed in silence,

and the feelings—

without any guilt—

were wet along the rain.

Inside my own being,

it was raining, or perhaps hailing;

rust mixed with ashes.