Forest of leaves that die
In the colors of fire and sun
As the cold sets them aflame
And burns all that they
Have left and they fall
To the ground in a carpet
Of brown, red, orange
That rustles and cracks underfoot
As creatures pad by the skeletons
Of the trees left behind
That raise their bare arms
To the sky and pray
That spring be brought
Soon to their chilled souls
And let them breathe again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem