My branches weigh me down.
Laugh at the unshed leaf,
Say what you will at it,
And my grief...
Frost clinging to the air making it
Hard to sigh, or love, or breathe.
The sky is black and alone
With a million stars a million miles from each other.
Autumn is heavy upon me,
As I recall being upon you-
The fruit's rotted in its stalls.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem