Les Feuilles Mortes

Philippe Robert, "Feuilles d'automne"
Philippe Robert, “Feuilles d’automne”
Yes, the leaves die as they go golden,
      yet
this does not speak to me of death,
as hand-in-hand we walk below bowers
          which colour
     the world’s bright defiant grave.
 
Tombs carry promise, still dormant – a longing –
     life
hidden by these shrouds of weak foresight –
then, like colour transfigured in a shower of gold,
          soon to sing,
     “Death, where’s your victory? Your sting?”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s