Summer is passing

And summer passes, like everything else.
The finish of the green canvas is approaching.
The grasses are turning yellow, the leaves are falling.
Time does not wait, and you are growing old.

The wind carries away the fruits of mood,
the hot sun cannot shine forever.
The days fly by in a drunken rapture,
and it is sad that this cannot be stopped.

Everything will repeat itself, in another dimension,
the past, it is a pity, cannot be returned.
However, there are different opinions on this,
but this, believe me, is not the main point.