It is September,
The fields are looking white
With the kash blooms
Blooming into the barren and marshy tracts,
Swaying in the wind,
What a scenery and a landscape
Bringing in the pictures and images
Of white beards and white hairs,
Some socialites and fashionista
Dyeing it white out of fashion
Or white silvery clouds floating on!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem