The wind reveals
its naked body in the street
in the late Autumn.

The mountain
turns red from embarrassment.

The innocent Autumn river
reveals its body.
Tranquil river.

Like a legend in my hometown,
the wine ripens in the
lonely mountain village.

The ringing of the bamboo at the fence
combs the crispy frost.

I embrace the cold moon that is
hanging off the old tree by the window.

Longing for you,
the tears well up.