i am the colored leaves cascading from autumn trees onto concrete
where you don't know below greens used to grow.

i am the pupil of your eye standing before a judges' sentence
without knowing the consensus missed evidence.

i am the rain drop that falls on your forehead
forgetting umbrellas don't matter
until they do.

You, you only, exist.
We pass away, till at last,
our passing is so immense
that you arise: beautiful moment,
in all your suddenness,
arising in love, or enchanted
in the contraction of work.

To you I belong, however time may
wear me away. From you to you
I go commanded. In between
the garland is hanging in chance; but if you
take it up and up and up: look:
all becomes festival!
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Translated by Stephen Mitchell