Yesterday she was Time's Spring,
Today she is skinny bonny winter,
Tomorrow a dream on Ashes' jar.
The frenzy of the wasted woods,
In sense beyond time returns,
Airy is the pleasure of spring,
And all time friction evoking funs.
The challenging gallant at 80's bed,
Dips and dips in Autumnal shades,
The nerves on the harps response no more,
The glory of life passes through the door.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem