Once verdant and holy green
Now gold and silver baron
In autumn's glowing sheen
A single oak leaf has a clown
The shape of a joyful angel
Cradling in the wind asleep…
In deepening drifts eternal
A world turns idolatry bronze
Where redden eyes weep
And men in long Johns
In distant alleyways meet
Gathered like windswept batons
We too with these angels will greet…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem