In the forest where leaves have fallen, but still
Those remaining shine beautiful and bright.
Filled with fine dust, appears dark and dusk,
The sky even in the morning light.
A smoky and smothery, pungent odor
Pierces deep in the nostril,
As winter arrives, by the burning coal,
The lousiness approaches like the spectral.
(Apr.21st,2024, Kinsley Lee)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem