Autumn leaves,
Heralding the winter
Of our discontent,
Cold, bleak,
Memories of summer,
Of brighter days,
No more than that,
Distant,
No warmth remaining,
And spring,
So full of the promise
Of those first
Rays of golden sunlight,
As if it never was.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem