You're again with me, my girlfriend autumn?
But through your net of the boughs bared,
Bluish tints were ne’er such pale and frozen,
...
The blackened skies have reached the garden walk;
Yet my poor heart tonight cannot be not the restless…
...
I thought that the heart made of stone,
That it’s fully empty and dead:
Though fire in it had been thrown,
It’s not damaged or just upset.
...
The river else doesn’t wholly reign,
But pale-blue ice is drowned now;
And clouds are not blue again,
But sun had drunk the snow out.
...
Among worlds shone, amid glimmers,
A single star whose name I repeat....
Not so that I may come to love it
...
They faded, the last bands of reddish,
Like whispers of prayers in night,
O tale, such seductive and maddish,
...
We almost lost our minds through that mad sky:
It blinds us with its fire or its snow,
And, baring teeth, like any beast of wild,
...
A week son of the dying generation,
I would not seek the roses of Alps,
I will not gain the beautiful sensation,
...
The gardens full of gold and decay,
With lure of purple of the swelling ailments,
And tardy heat of sun in curves of sunbeam’s remnants,
...
I see always the page that is filled on
By the muddy-black blotches of ink.
I am able from men to be hidden,
...