Mercy one

               
              Open me an imaginative door
              with  a hand that is so unpredictably tender,
              your image for me as a night meteor,
              flaring leafs  of  Master-September!

            
             Who had closed Autumn space with his breathing
              by the words of  the garden and trees,
              with the speeches of nightingale  teasing,
              waves  bushes and showering  trees?

             
              Who  are you, you brought the tears to the garden,
               to the flowers  of summer that died?
               Take my rhymes  and a turtle- doves pardon!
               That are you, that is me, that had cried.


               Only Person is saved by your mercy,
               only air that takes our names,
               only echo for summing a tercet,
               only a dream that  future proclaims!