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O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
Tomorrow's wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
Tomorrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow.
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know.
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf; one from our trees, one far away.
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!
For the grapes' sake, if the were all,
Whose elaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost--
For the grapes' sake along the all.
~~October ~~ Robert Frost
TicK
in the space its domination
of liberated symphonies,
like the will
to live these moments
in perfect stillness.
This silent note flows
to make itself dawn of the
returning time
of stories and melodies.
I understand then the ineffability
which makes me considering
my present
as an instant as long as the infinity.
2007 Dec. 3rd.
Hope its well translated.