Dark green ending
Of summer. Autumn beckons.
Shadows now linger
Like enigmatic figures.
I trace the contours
Of a fading, spectral light
Which briefly suggests
That the warm magic has passed.
Yet it points to a
More solemn, subtle season
Of colour and shade:
Ochre. crimson, rusted gold.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem