In October fires of crayon ablaze
Not familiar to her sun-filled days.
'Who painted this leaf with spots of brown'?
'Who painted the leaves that are drifting down'?
Her eyes grew big with wonder -light,
Hearing of far off hills grown bright.
'Who painted this leaf with spots of red,
And instead of grean made it red instead? '
'Who painted the hills'? She wanted to know.
The golden haired girl with he face all aglow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem