Leaves
In vain I hurried down from the third floor;
by the time I got down, it became winter.
This was not meant to be a message
but poetry.
Like the last leaf,
I fall among the others
who have gone before me.
Our mother is the trembling tree
leaning against the wind
so that she does not fall on her trunk.
But if she does, she falls softly,
we, her leaves, will take care of her.
Manolis Aligizakis 