On the brink
On the brink of fall,
the leaves decide their deciduous fate.
Autumn comes like a red-haired witch
riding the winds on a thick-strawed broomstick.
The forests stun the eyes, visioning postcard vistas:
layers of gold and orange, reds and purples.
Soon all the trees will shake off their colored complements,
and the black bony fingers will thrust themselves stark
against the whiteness of the brink of winter.
Stanley H. Barkan, USA
from “The Faces of Time – Les visages du temps”
Painting by Agon Schiele, Austria
From the “Poetry without borders” project of the Ithaca Cultural Foundation in Spain directed by the well-known international poet, translator, and publisher of modern poetry GERMAIN DROOGENBROODT. Translated into Albanian by IRMA KURTI.
