The autumn leaves crunch close to a spark
As I turn my cover up against the east wind
Making my weary way through the city park
My mind is set for yet another midlife freeze
A wise old oak tree sways gently overhead
Her rustling yellow leaves spray me a path
The weary summer sun has long gone to bed
As the geese fly south to escape the wrath
Reflecting on this fading time of the year
This junction in one's own journey of life
Many changes since spring's early cheer
As many as old King Henry had a wife
But beauty still resides in this decaying ring
All is just a cycle and that is still true
First we quickly run, but then must slow
There is no time to regret; no place to rue
For the winter's snow shall soon fall
and jolly sleigh bells will distantly chime
Sentimental stories are trusted for recall
As childhood memories are stretched sublime
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem