On a breezy holiday, shops open,
On the sun is leaning the hills' way,
Along the park paths,
Forgetting the pandemic day,
After a long time, people gather
To enjoy the autumn sky,
Tor a rest to west, white clouds
Drift and lift, to the high.
(Apr.20th,2024, Kinsley Lee)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem