No footsteps trod these tranquil paths
As light meanders away,
The call of dusk when harked aloud
With twilight all set to play.
Autumnal leaves slither on ground
As if seeking some mate,
Deep melancholy urging that
They ought to remain sedate.
A tremouring breeze whispers soft -
‘Passing time will ease your pain,
Then help you merge with mother earth
Till it's time to rise again.'
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem