Translation of a Persian poem

My Garden

Its sky is embraced tightly
by wet thick coat of clouds.
The leafless garden
is lonely night and day
in a sad innocent silence.
It has rain for an instrument and wind for voice.
Its garment is nakedness,
or if it needs any other garment
it has been woven from golden threads by the wind.
"Let them grow or not grow, anyone anywhere it wants or does not want"
There is not a gardener or a passer by.
The garden of the hopeless
is not waiting for a spring.
If there is no warm glow in its eyes,
and if no leaf of smile grows on its lips,
who says the leafless garden is not beautiful?
It is telling the story of the hight up in the sky fruits which are now buried in the lowly coffin of the soil.

The leafless garden
Its smile is tear and blood.
Forever trotting on its long haired yellow horse in it is,
the king of seasons, Autumn.