When chilling breezes brush the trees
and frosty mornings wilt the leaves,
beguiling, winter's fingers tease.
The lulling summer sun will grieve
as detrimental winds appear,
disrupting what this star believed
a perfect day for skies to clear.
The lulling summer sun will grieve,
when time refuses to concede,
as icy droplets now deceive
a startled star that lost the lead.
The lulling summer sun will grieve
when chilling breezes brush the trees;
the lulling summer sun will grieve.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem