Taking away leaves
from the streets
the machinery fleets
pass by in loud parade
i miss my yellow, red
and greenish grays
and just as
they moved
around the corner
left all the cars
and windows with
layers of dust
what a charade
the trees thrust
of another load
and deck the road;
nature will
sing her song
on her own terms.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem