Happiness came with such a vengeance ...
In the darkness, an apple
Had left its branch
‘Last night, whose heart thumped violently?’
Someone fainted in the thunderous rain
A fine shadow
Swept the land before it died
– the orchard in the summer, shining light spots
Were following me all the time
Under a tree, I listened, my ears pricked
Within the clean flesh of the fruit, a creek rushed scouring
I sensed that happiness was slow
And that it required me to lighten my steps
Branches extending themselves, the green waves of the orchard were quietly rolling
It was not till then that the old orchard peasant told me
That he sometimes would dream of his own death, like an apple falling