Rainbows on the branches of trees,
Burning embers the colour of flames,
Dance with the wind as
The campfire in the forest
Sways and dances with each
Push of moving gust.
They burn slowly,
The kindling beneath them
Empowering their beautiful
Flames to burn brighter,
Tempera unfathomable to man.
Then slowly they fall,
Turning brown as the
Fire begins to go out,
Embers descending to the underbrush,
The only remnants of the flames
To be remembered by the
Bright burning leaves of autumn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem