There's a leaf following my car.
In my mirrors it swoops and swerves
All along these narrow curves.
Now pressed against the glass, now free,
Now looking right back at me.
Maybe it will be torn away by the wind
Before it finds its way in,
But I know that I won't get very far
Without the leaf following my car.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem