That part of Autumn I call Discord,
in which I wear Summer below
and Winter above,
doesn't keep regular dates,
but I know when it's there
and rue when it's gone,
and Winter's above and below
till when again I wear
Winter above and Summer below,
in that part of Spring I call Clash,
which has irregular dates also.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem