In the interim, nothing but remnants remain.
Dried grasses, dead blossoms, wilted trees
not even a delta breeze
stirs beneath a gibbous moon.
By light of day, as far as the eye can see
a weary earth with a thirst unquenched
bakes beneath a sun that refuses to relent;
all of the lush beauty completely spent.
But Autumn is poised just around the bend;
how eager we all are to welcome her.
She can put a final end
to these long drawn out days of summer.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem