Autumn’s sleepless anarchy,
Burns within my soul,
The green of youth has left in me,
And given way to gold.
The placid birds of warmth retreat,
The Black Bear dozes on his beat,
The leaves of bliss that time had kept,
Chatter with knowledge, questions, death.
The soil of tranquility,
Has hardened in the cold,
The green of youth has left in me,
And given way to gold.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a nice instrospection...well presented and beautifully written...great piece.....10 (see my poem ' Always ' let me see if it will touch your heart too like the others -thanks)