October comes with vivid colors
Maple trees greet the wind with gentle tremors.
The autumn park variegates throughout
But there are things not to talk about.
High above the river, seagulls flout
Gravity, hunting for salmon trout
While the forest rests tired and worn-out
Yet there are things not to talk about.
The long road swerves, it crosses the mountains,
A curved route to the city on the plains.
Winter knocks soon with snow, thick and stout,
Still there are things not to talk about.
And betimes spring will sprout out no doubt
Though there are things not to talk about.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem