There was a time,
ago,
embraced,
when a woodland walk,
brought a state of grace.
Sun bright October,
the crisping morn,
the earth renewed,
the soul reborn.
Each day different,
each day new,
each with wondrous things to do.
Each a song that could be sung.
Sung forever,
forever young.
There was a time,
ago,
misplaced.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem