the days' light is running out
and an hour lasts a mere ten minutes.
the trees were playing their last colours.
in the sky the stage set's changing
too swiftly for the little drama in each of us:
the days' light is running out.
your grey coat separates you from the air,
a passepartout for a sentence such as this:
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem