Leaves turned colors in autumn and are still somehow
gently holding on to branches gingerly, not ready to
succumb to winter's embrace.
Birds gladly hopping from one limb to another, enjoying
the privacy behind leaves of life for yet a while longer.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
you have a uneque signature style of poetry which is distinct in all your poetry.well done.