Autumn-killer skies
flying in at spring
dark and wavy clouds
forcing to get through.
We always cry at times
when everything is new
blossoming and living
being born again.
At this start of year
in this blinding light
we all know the truth
of final death and despair.
At spring we get our coffins
lowered in the ground
lovers throw red flowers
haters smile and laugh.
And then it all has ended
we're nothing anymore
it's the autumn-killer skies
that's taken us in spring.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i love it the skies flying