It is a fine sunny morning of the fall,
The garden is full of trees so tall.
Birds chirping over the blossomed lilies,
Sucking all the nectar hovering are those butterflies.
A thought stuck in my head and I wonder,
When did the last I write a happy poem?
The children playing in the park are so loud,
Running all over and making joyous sounds.
They fall and get up in a definite routine,
Such beatific faces that sadness is demeaned.
A thought stuck in my head and I wonder,
When did the last I write a happy poem?
I buy my bread and sit over a bench,
See an elderly couple walking through the fence.
Still in love and holding each other’s hands,
Failing to look away I keep eating my jam.
A thought stuck in my head and I wonder,
When did the last I write a happy poem?
A beggar sitting at the corner of the street,
Fondling a dog and giving his piece of meat.
Playing flute his wrinkles disappeared,
Such tranquillity I saw no elsewhere.
A thought stuck in my head and I wonder,
When did the last I write a happy poem?
I pick up my grocery bag and start to leave for my home,
Humming all the songs by Kuhad that I know.
Suddenly from behind a man calls out to me by my appearance,
Hand over my purse that I left there in incoherence.
A thought stuck in my head and I wonder,
When did the last I write a happy poem?
I return my home and open all the curtains,
In the darkest corner falling the sunlight inadvertent.
I sat by the window with a notebook and pen,
Scribbling on the pages some sad lines again,
but
A thought stuck in my head and I wonder, When did the last I write a happy poem?
