Autumn Leaf. 
The fall leaves dance weren’t celebrating life, 
but utter despair, they whirled around in 
the plaza like furious dervishes, faster and
faster till they ended up, exhausted, in a heap
in the corner, near the bin, for empty bottles.   
A thunder rumble, warning of rain to come, 
gutters will be rivers and leaves rafts, steering 
around boulders down foamy waterfalls and 
into the sewers, where the outcast rat lives and 
witness our gaseous effluence.   
Turning into mulch, mixed with human waste; 
perfect nourishment free of chemicals, perhaps
a gardeners dream?  A golden oak leaf survived, 
the tumult, though, drifted to the Saragossa Sea 
where it became a king amongst the seaweed.                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                     
                
Wonderful poem nice imagery