Sadness of August
In a yellow pond there are white ducks swimming,
Only a little taller than human body, sorghums are still green.
How should I put, in my pounding heart,
A narrow path in the field, this sadness in August?
Rains washed the sky clean last night, sun shines
On hills and leaves some shadows;
Sheep follow the shepherd into the village,
A big tree shades a well, or maybe a heart!
No one ever spoke of August, summer is over
And fall isn’t here. I look onto a farmland,
And then at the squashes over the clay wall,
I just don’t understand how life and dream connect.