WHO IS AFRAID OF THE FADING OF THE YELLOWS AND GREENS
Who is afraid of the fading of the yellows and greens
of this park’s long summer evening?
Who is afraid of the moon come to replace the sun?
And the lights going slowly to their own longer darkness?
Near its end life is afraid of life
Beautiful still and waiting,
For the end which will inevitably come.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem