The fall leaves dance weren’t celebrating life,
but utter despair, they whirled around in
the plaza like furious dervishes, faster and
faster till they ended up, exhausted, in a heap
in the corner, near the bin, for empty bottles.
A thunder rumble, warning of rain to come,
gutters will be rivers and leaves rafts, steering
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem