The golden tang of leaves
gets shifted in dense of its shade
I find the same pattern below
days after days, seasons after seasons
I come and take solace
sometimes I wish I could give
this a name, to tell others
this vim is leading me into abysmal
standing among those who build
their girth over time
I might seem strange
humble, average height but a hue
deep drenched in my veins.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem