Those slurping sound of leaves
As the first runnel runs down
Pulling them along its way;
Sticking to mud, turning over
And over, settling inside ditches
They turn from green to gray;
From the faint whistling of wind
And dark clouds loitering as
Monsters to melt and fall;
Needle pointed leaves with newly
Formed veins make their moods to
Leave the fronds to take a stroll;
Away from the womb somewhere
In the flatness of a tilled field
They fall silent, curled up,
Soaked to the last vein, breathing
Tales at the root of grasses, with
No strength to rise up.
A beautiful poem that captures the leaves falling in the rain. Well penned.10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sticking to mud, turning over And over, settling inside ditches They turn from green to gray; - - There is something to lament in the wet fallen leaves that have lost their life, with untold tales in the dirty mud. A very good poem for share.
My heartfelt gratitude. Inspired by wonderful comment. Thanks.