In October, dark green turns to ochre brown.
Under the trees, leaves are scattered all around.
I feel life is drifting by like feathered clouds
In pale blue skies. Once time freed us, and allowed
Us to roam, in spring and summer's vibrant fields.
But now those days are no more and our bright dreams
Are rusted, and broken, like these fallen leaves.
Eden's sun no longer protects us. For we
Are mere shadows exiled in this Vale of Tears.
We spend many hours naming all of our fears.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem