Vivid Scent

I have grown weary of incessant discussions about the future.
I feel exhausted from endeavouring to be virtuous, good, and independent—like a ray of light penetrating darkness.
I am fatigued from lying on my modest bed, contemplating the days ahead, or standing beneath the moon, its bright face reflected in my eyes, as I reiterate my hopes. 
Nevertheless, I never grow tired of dedicating my heart to the joyful laughter of spring, the vivid scent of autumn leaves, and the lush grass at my ankles—where I watch my beloved dog run in moments of innocence.