Da-jirin (Darjeeling)

One morning of sun showers was too much like an illusion
The wind was a paintbrush that swept up the colors of October

It’s like I’m in a one act play
Your room surely still
has the curtain closed

The script for the next scene calls for
Why I wonder, it’s not even like I’ll be able to say it
On that day my heart was in triple time
The dried leaves rained down in slow motion

Darjeeling at the window side
I gazed at the seat opposite me

I tried to murmur
In the bus descending down the hill
It’s surely the last scene now
As one long tear escapes