Now the summer-man bring the basket down from the head
Shadow-sheltered eventless days come, lift up,
Whatever you have hay and straw, dust and sand, withered flowers
Dry branches, life-long amassed wax, oil, shellac, gunpowder...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a realistic imagery.....reminds Keats' ode to autumn....the images of the old lady. .......enjoyable.10.