The trees in the park
have seen the cutting down of forests,
raise their arms to the sky and give thanks
for having once left their homeland.
The distant mountains I trusted
have raised a white flag.
They were the first to surrender to winter.
The trees are taking off their clothes,
as if they are giving their clothes to the soil
so that the soil will not be cold in winter.
But the city municipality
has the leaves collected and burned.
White fog in the mountains after the rain,
black fog in the park.
Aristotle’s black-and-white theory is still in force.
But Lotfi Zadeh’s fuzzy logic theory
should not be forgotten either.
There is a rainbow of a thousand colors in the distance.
And yet,
I know this chairman of the municipality.
So that the city will be clean,
he would burn the manuscripts
of both Aristotle and Lotfi Zadeh.
But I, looking at these trees,
feel longing for my homeland.
I think this theory
is a more precise theory
than the black-and-white theory,
and than the fuzzy logic theory.
Precise and tragic.
