In the evening, when the bells ring peace,
I follow the wonderful flights of birds,
That in long rows, like devout processions of pilgrims,
Disappear into the clear autumn vastness.
Wandering through the garden closed for the night
I dream after their brighter destinies
And hardly feel the motion of the hour hands.
Thus I follow their journey over the clouds.
Then a breath of decay makes me tremble.
A bird complains in defoliated branches.
The red wine sways on rusty trellises.
Meanwhile like the death-dances of pale children
Around dark fountain edges that weather,
Shivering blue asters bend in the wind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem