Trees Are Bowing To Wind, Poem by Andrej Grampovcan

they breathe more slowly, rarer, autumn is here
and birds flew already long ago on south.
Sound of a day is rare and when he falls on other,
he slips just alone among fingers.
And when still leaves are falling off from tree heads,
as a hair is falling off on heads of people,
ephemerality of time is being showed with the right eyes.
And there already are hands of trees of empty autumn branch
and there is increasingly more a little of warm sun, that yet warms up.
And autumn changes still faces of people.
There is increasingly morer of wind of this father of touches,
wind of the natural judge of tree contacts.
And when spring will come again,
a day will be turned on with a stronger light,
branches will be lifting their green hands wordlessly to a heaven again
and trees will flirt again, she were being deceived,
corner of the bird on branches, that returned home.
And also she comes on spring and you are again
and all round-and-round love turns around.
Love breathes more quickly from a palm on spring, live,
as I and you will be two trees.