Like a woman without children.
Solitary stands an old vine.
Ghostly like a night shadow.
Cursed like a bad crop.
Seeking vein of barren soil.
Maybe this is the last morning dew she cries for.
No virtue of a virgin
To tighten its branches with her own hair.
No sun to shine over it.
No birds to steel the grapes.
......
Like a woman without children.
Solitary stands an old vine.
Ghostly like a night shadow.
Cursed like a bad crop.
Seeking vein of barren soil.
Maybe this is the last morning dew she cries for.
No virtue of a virgin
To tighten its branches with her own hair.
No sun to shine over it.
No birds to steel the grapes.
......