November story

Like a garden pavilion from anno dazumal,
the multi-stemmed pine grows on the shore.
Heavy limbs bend down like a pagoda roof,
protecting against the autumn grief.

The view out over the lake is calming.
The surface is grey and closed,
like a turned-off television receiver.
No disturbing signals reach us here today.

In the pine tree’s top lives a wise old dragon.
It is dangerous to be seen on this track,
where the moss is weaving gobelins between the roots.

The night will come, and Saturn,

like the fireplace with its ring of stones.

After every end, we will find
still another day to be together on,

before the whiteness, the snow