Waste
I recall fallen leaves
for the goats, and the sheep.
In winter, cold outside
Ice, snow, and no weed
Joyously they would eat.
Now men and, some women
go around lost trees
in alleys, streets of city
and blow that value
as the “waste” and “harmful”.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The fallen leaves in autumn may waste the past green but color make the land beautiful even if they fall... the wintery snow maybe just a plain white and brutally cold to stop the warm to get hold, but it provides family to gather at home for warming moment, of men and women if they known as losing past, if they learn about what were bad at back years may they know how to construct great bridge for future... if waste is a waste, we must remember once it was useful before be ignored, but be useful again if we rebirth new
A lovely comment...thanks