Once he covered with greenery
Often being heavy with fruits,
As long as it lived a noble – seek,
Whom I believe;
of thunderous spark.
Grim of a autumn, will be leafless,
T a needless hunt for those passers –
Proudly called as beauties ever,
And fugitive love!
Shall cut it down.
They would make a winter –carpet
Of healed way along dry leaves,
Wry! Brimmed in declined heart-fall
Or be carried into hard Saw-mill?
And the tree must tell selflessly –
As years and moon passed underway,
Shining her a long unuttered lamp there,
To each memories –
Of a passing winter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem