More increasingly the autumn signs are on
And the flocks of the birds sign on, that here the paradise is not,
Though sang the praise to the homeland all the summer,
Change its mother land to the land of the warmth.
And only the eagles, that were silent,
Looking at the bare gardens
And do not hurry, spread its wings,
To leave the darling land in the trouble hour.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem