being green wasn't fun
but firey passion felt each one
the tips went from sharp to dull
weathered like an old ship's hull
the rages of time and season both
until rich brown, they were proof
of life and death and color and growth
and the fall was just a last hurrah
meeting earth with a graceful embrace
gravity hugs them tight
cool air kisses them goodnight
they reach the ground and sigh
they needed the fall to remember the high.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Fine piece of writing. Thanks.