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Works Writings: Poems, Essays, Articles
"The Happy
Fall"
When the cold wind shook the tree,
I, an apple, high and free,
Downwards gave to gravity.
Detached from that highest bough,
Worms ate my flesh hungrily;
No hope for help had I though
They left my seeds angrily.
Rains then came so gently down
And washed my seeds fairly deep;
Thus Nature Ma laid me sown
Deep in darkness for a sleep.
When out of soil I grew high,
I heard Cold Wind dully sigh:
"Oh, these apples never die!"
Ali Aizmi, Summer1382
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