The noise of the fall is breaking
the quietness of the window.
The sound of green grass,
Is silenced by excitement wow.
The quietness of poplars,
Is left missed with grieves.
The crows are jumping,
On the bushes with leaves.
The cotton weeds sell well
Their hot and warm harvest,
And all winter lie freezing
On the open roof senseless.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem