Oh pretty fragile leaf of red and brown,
most splendid of all out of town.
Copy of a Zulu warrior’s shield,
handsome thing of nature’s yield.
Symmetrically oval, but naturally ragged,
that crimson - red, so blazonry vivid.
I plucked you from your dying bush,
and thus gave nature a gentle push.
Long stem, so thin, gave you life;
soon to join you in afterlife.
As a butterfly you dazzled for a while,
and brought a sure smile in your style.
Skeleton of wood holds you a pose,
tries till the end to hold you close.
Does not loose you in a gentle breeze,
but gives you up in winter’s freeze.
In the wind and sun you’ll dry and curl,
you’ll spread around in an icy swirl.
Inspiration for my poetry you have been,
soon no longer will you be seen.
You will metamorphose to a golden crisp piece,
and your colourful life will begin to cease.
You’ll mould into the soil under our feet,
then next year greet us, as something else neat.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem