It seems the sun has packed his bags and left,
in haste indecent, now we are bereft
of sunny weather in this land of ours
and we will miss his rays like the flowers.
It seems the sun has packed his bags and left,
his eagerness to leave amounts to theft,
and we are left with inclement weather,
with wind, with rain, and lower temperature.
The autumn has arrived a little early;
the leaves will turn then fall to ground in whirly
swirly thought-provoking kind of ways,
in this the time of dark and dreary days.
And soon the winter gloom will arrive here,
and I will yearn for sunshine I hold dear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem