It is getting cold
Yellow leaves fall.
Pale with sick, sun creeps cross the sky,
And if at dawn pink paints it alive,
From early afternoon light starts to die.
Or all of a sudden, sky is swept clear,
Chill wind gets quiet, warm is almost near,
But sadness is in air - it all must disapper.
A big leaf on my way falls
Autumn has come. And so has cold.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.