Winds blow,
as dry leaves rolls,
rustling through the night,
breezes whisper gently,
life goes on,
rain falls gently,
on bare leafed trees,
soon they'll be frozen,
silently sleeping away days,
till spring thaws,
then to life they'll spring,
no longer,
will blowing winds,
whisper of death then.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem