It will not always be like this,
The air windless, a few last
Leaves adding their decoration
To the trees’ shoulders, braiding the cuffs
Of the boughs with gold; a bird preening
In the lawn’s mirror. Having looked up
From the day’s chores, pause a minute,
Let the mind take its photograph
Of the bright scene, something to wear
Against the heart in the long cold.
There is a beauty that resides in the season, that only the heart can see.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Can somebody please critically analyse this poem for me,I have an assignment on it PLEASE :)