The song of Summer almost reached its end,
And some new melodies will soon begin, But newer notes might all to sadness lend,
As heart's prime song is not yet heard to din;
Life's rhapsody sings of much varied tunes,
From follies, that all dreamers may have known,
To joys, that like grape vine, my sorrow prunes,
Inducing misery to sprout till grown;
But there are songs that strum of hope and more,
As in a songbird's soulful mating call,
But here's wisdom, or just a common lore,
Such calls, are nary made before the Fall;
......Lo! Even Nature dealt me added blows,
......As if I do not have enough of woes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem