friend poem

one by one, like leaves from a tree
a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
uplifting, as the wind blew
her face is fair and smooth and fine
do you hear the rain?
by the rude bridge
let me be sad
happiness
before the solemn bronze saint
melancholy, blue it was
are you awake?
to clothe the fiery thought
be patient, life, when love is at the gate
the mountains they are silent folk