Memory, buried hope
Is preserved by this brown timber,
Dahlias hang over it
Ever more silent homecoming,
The dark reflection of childish years
By the decayed garden,
That tears fall from blue eyelids
Irresistibly;
Gloom's crystalline minutes
Gleam over
To the night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I can feel my autumn comes... with its winter friend. Soon they will embrace me and nothing will remain...* *