When no leaf stirred, long ago in the past,
she was born, autumnal silence's bloom,
standing pale-bright while light weeps, overcast
rain falling from cloud banks that loom.
Amid the grimness she stood pale-bright,
blond hair trailing round eyes alight,
tears often flowing, hands all white,
a poor light girl who's hungry for light.
Paint her with bloom-glow hues, with your
blood red, you new age that stand at the door.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem