The End of Summer
At the end of summer the sun changes its light,
As a middle-aged man becomes less sharp and bright,
Gone are all those exciting days of the season past.
Now the emotion is like back-to-school children,
The distant hills present a touch of dark green,
A few yellow leaves fall on the lawn like drifting canoes.
The past events of either indulgence or laziness,
Will be gradually forgotten from your diaries.
Yet, September will have its wet and teary eyes,
Not as clear and bright as the mid-summer ones.
After the growing and saturation of the last season,
A thin autumn is waiting for our appreciation.