Last night, thunder roared,
Rain poured in tumult. Cool breeze,
This autumn morning, they brush
And knock the boughs on the park-trees.
In the forest, birds sing, but insects
Take flight and miss the past.
Where did the summer-trace go?
The sky is blue and vast!
(Mar.23rd.2024. Kinsley Lee)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem