Autumn ailing and adored

You will die when the wind storm blows in rose gardens

When it snows

In orchards

Poor autumn

Dies in the whiteness and richness

Of snow and ripe fruit

Deep in the sky

The sparrow hawks glide

Above the tiny gentle green-haired water nymphs

Who have never loved

At the distant forest edges

Stags have been bellowing

And how I love O season how I love your murmurs

The fruits falling without being picked

The wind and the forest that weep

All their tears in autumn leaf by leaf

Leaves

That are trampled

A train

That passes

Life

That slips away