between hills
in the water white clouds
are looking at themselves,
like in the mirror
red and gold
bronze mixed
with green
digest yellowing.
the golden autumn
is reflecting
its colours
now, in the pond.
leaves screwed
are rustling
under legs
trodden every day
living together
with sheetof papers
of the calendar
is escaping
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem