The wind makes -
autumn dance before she undresses.
her fervor paints the dusk skies -
as vivid robes tumble to the ground.
She beckons, tossing her fiery auburn
-hair like a nymph.
She finally sighs,
the joy of April is still visible in her eyes.
As the summer days passes by-
the cool nights switches the mood.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem