Autumn, become my friend,
Thou holding my hand,
Take me through the windfalls,
To help me forget my own tree’s bereaving calls.
The tree where summer’s ripenings,
Too fruity, heavy for the branch’s likings,
The air through their fall singth,
While, thou make me follow thy grayish path.
‘See not thy own windfalls’,
Thou say, dodging thy falls,
And push me from my tree,
So that I become mourn-free.
And the autumn path brownish,
Summer’s warmth vanish
Joyfully from fruits, leaves,
Vow! Fairy for its beauty not grieves.
Happily I run with thee,
Away! Away! Where another season be,
Where trees glee with fruity prospects more,
Where snow melts to welcome the spring at its door.
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