Watching dry, brown leaves lying upon concrete,
not moving or stirring at all, dead upon the
ground, when just yesterday they were living
and breathing on their own.
Just like we humans when we find the end of our
lives, waiting promises in future horizons,
taking us calmly a little at a time to ease the
strain of living until our ends.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A very thoughtful poem. I like how you compared leaves with human life.