Murmurings of autumn: look out for leaf fall:
Stuttering colours of gold, brown & crimson;
On their way to ground like broken syllables;
That once formed part of summer's enchanted words;
Now blown by the high wind; stirring the senses.
They're like crazed dancers in life's final flourishing;
Soon to be condemned by winter's austere reign.
Endeavour to walk along woodland pathways:
Where dreams merge with this sombre, rusted season:
Listen to the crunch & crackle underfoot.
Smell the acrid scent of mourning in the air.
Remember all the wild & gentle souls;
Still half - lost in the labyrinths of memory.
They once, like us, travelled through this strange, roaring world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem