BONFIRE

Winter in the jungle - it's dark all around.

A brook flows to eternity with a numb sound. 

The mystery of misty night keeps the words secret. 

The lone mind stumbles on the voice of a cricket. 

Here and there dry leaves rustle in the breeze. 

The lone mind looks for a warm fire among the trees. 

Up above the stars play hide and seek with the clouds. 

Bonfire, the no-moon night wants to talk about. 

So, he collects dry leaves and branches from the wood

And stacks them up in front to bring back the mood. 

Then he adds fire to the stack for the warmth

And sits to feel the hot yellow in the cold month. 

The empty mind stares at the new bonfire. 

The fragrant moist obscure flowers flicker there. 

It really feels a bit cosy in the cold. 

The dry no-moon night demands to be bold. 

The empty stomach feels hungry as usual. 

The delusive flowers burn in the dark jungle. 

The wintry cold misty night pushes him to go

In the quest of food and drink beyond the yellow.