She can be found on a brisk, autumn morning.
She can be seen in the vivid yellow, orange and reds of leaves set ablaze by sunrise.
In the brilliant sparkle and shimmer of the frost upon every surface, giving radiance to a dreary, static world.
And she is the morning's light as it melts the night's freeze, catching in each falling drop that drips to earth in a sonata created just for her.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem