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Aiku at work.
If you do not find a word I struggle a little more
':
bones and muscles
tell me when I'll stop
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Prune,
from year to year, prune
.
of olive trees is the right form.
of us ... ..
... .. the Essential
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the smoke begins to rise from the pyre of damp
twigs of olive trees pruned. Denso
Like my memories
if I think about all these years
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The ax hits the show log,
inevitable. His
thread resumes
rightful place between the two halves of wood
sketched on.
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still collect
... the autumn leaves, of which nothing remains today.
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BREATH
Since no-where in which everything is born
takes my hand and wrote the words:
"Whence are made
wind and breath." Then
him back, and prune low oil
these jets.
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Above the pile of pruned branches
wings of flame dancing in the dense cloud of smoke.
The devil twisted trunks of olive
again free to ascend to heaven
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I look at the greed of the fire
eat the twigs and
a stream of smoke escape
chased by the flames. This year I pruned
:
lifted something that was more
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Sometimes I smoke a pipe and look at the sky.
When life is a moment to sit down to catch his breath
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