sorrow… One morning, I see that leaves have fallen on the earth. I feel
the grievance … I can not appreciate and bid farewell to them. The
autumn is a space that contains the regret and presentiment to awake;
“How much harder is the sky than the earth?” … Most perfect figure
and most fashionable colored leaves making a most perfect dance and
turning and turning and falling to earth… I am sad… Do these leaves never listen to the applause? At that moment a crow is cawing.
Why is this call heard so melodiously? In the autumn, just like it, I’d like to dance, turn and turn, fall on
the earth. I’d like to listen to the crow’s call “Hurray, Hurray,
Hurray” and to be peaceful.
cold wind . . .
a crow's caw appealing to
flushed leaves Sodkhuu Altanchuluun