Autumn - by
O whence the leaves
scuttering down Easter Road,
sycamore and rowan
desperate as refugees
O whence the leaves
scuttering down Easter Road,
sycamore and rowan
desperate as refugees
Dhuilleag, dè an teachdaireachd
a th’ agad dhuinn an-diugh?
’S e gun tàinig foghar oirnn
’s gun deach na craobhan ruadh.
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
green brown golden heaps
piling up where they drop
beneath bare-armed branches
leaves falling quietly falling
Nous ne sommes pas l’arbre
/ mais son feuillage qui raconte.
/
/ Nous ne connaissons rien du jour,
/ pourtant l’aube nous a mis en marche.
/
/ Nos…
The human brain, so frail, so perishable, so full of inexhaustible dreams and hungers, burns by power of the leaf.
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