The brown dead leaves........ Hanging from a tree
about to fall off...... about to be free
As the mighty wind blows....... they start falling
one after the other...... they come soaring
in the air they twirl...... into the air they fly
they cover long paths..... though cant reach the sky
at last loosing their height...... they fall to the ground
this was their end...... as to their fate they are bound
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem