Winter is on the horizon, as Autumn grows old.
Soon the snowflakes will fall softly down,
And every object on the land below
Will wear a white, ornamental crown.
The pace of the parade of leaves heightens
As the crisp north winds begin to blow,
And the colorful leaves disperse and vanish
From the wrath of the approaching foe.
The days are fringed with nipping cold,
And the signs of a changing season everywhere.
Quietude of brisk and sunless days,
Winter is in the air.
But the bright days of Autumn will linger
Through the melancholy, winter days so cold,
One always remembering the magnificent parade -
The parade of swirling leaves of red, brown, and gold.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem