The joy of seasons is no more
Summers, winters, spring and fall
Are all the same like daily chore
Shut behind the aging door
Seasons change so is time
Until both are meaningless
With least rhythm or rumbling rhyme
No song or dirge there to impress
Time may nodoubt be a healer great
But time is also a killer whale
It passes until you heal by fate
Or ripped apart like hammered shale
Gone is the time when seasons felt
Redolence of roses, summers shine
Snowy winters, pale of autumn melt
Nothing there to claim for age as mine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem