More And More Brief Day

the dawn woke me coolness came
winter right right
more and more brief day
for me an evening is becoming nicest
smelling of honey and with fresh bread

casually I am looking at trees in the avenue
somebody without a sound took leaves
away from them
every day less and less
and some still raised by the wind
slowly are falling

kind of sheet of papers torn
off with throw, from the calendar
they are finding their way
into the basket,
like on the good match.
they are passing days of our life

already less and less…