The play of hues beckoning outside.
The gloaming’s purple, nearly sanguine-
the autumn covers aren’t sanguine yet bold.
The yellow tinted vogue is kitschy:
red, ochre, green and topaz. Autumn,
blond,
plays boldly with the nature. Black is added
to our cachepots. Some azure to the sky.
Umbra and khaki: leaves like scrolls of annals
in our hands. The heady smells at dawn,
and airy cobwebs
in sunrays.
Ambergris of Kenzo and cinnamon
unveiling someone’s sins
on someone’s scented wrists.
A moment more, and autumn,
blond,
will clothe us in the needles of tweed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem