The last leaf, it had been there
it had braved the rain and storm
Meanwhile, a painter died somewhere
a ladder gave strength to support his form
Sudie felt happy, her friend recovered
not soon before, she discovered
The leaf, fluttered nor it moved
she had a hunch, it was proved
She asked about the painter's case
Pneumonia caught him late last night
In the storm he continued to paint
on the wall, to his utmost delight
She realized, the leaf was unreal,
it was Behrman who, to die, agreed
He wanted to save Johnsy's life
and gave his masterpiece, indeed.
Based on ‘The Last Leaf' (O Henry)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem