I used to be the black cloud,
now I'm turning grey.
Hands age, veins emerge,
wrinkles gradually set in
around the mouth and brows.
The back begins to ache,
the voice gets hoarse,
a charming quality to some,
the roughness of the age to others.
Today, as I strolled down Yonge,
I was suddenly pushed
by a careless teen
who rushed by me.
While regaining my footing,
I saw an elderly man
trying in vain to retrieve
his rolling oranges.
As he crawled after them,
I realized he is helplessly old
and I am helplessly young.
September 2009 issue of Word Catalyst
Butterfly Dream: Wild Bluebells Haiku by Marion Clarke
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*English Original*
washing windows
the wild bluebells
bluer
Marion Clarke
*Chinese Translation (Traditional)*
清洗窗戶
野生的風信子
看起來更藍
*Chinese Translation (...