25th

I sat on a blue armchair in front of a window in front of the garden fence.

I thought maybe then that I just turned older again

It was time to live, to turn over a new leaf,

And to leave.

And the laurel leaves trembled with a breeze.

 

I had no crown, no glories. I leant my head back into the shade

Of the wall, and I thought maybe then that I just turned old

I may look through a hole to see what my future holds,

Though there was no hole on my wall. What did I aim?

The laurel leaves trembled with a breeze again.

 

I stood up and moved away from the blue armchair

I thought maybe then I just grew old I should go for a stroll

Through a forthcoming lane and pick up the aimed grain.

And I lived, and turned over a new leaf.

And I left,

And like laurel leaves I shook. Again.

 

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