Like myriad jewels October comes
Topaz and flaming red
The length and breadth of slopes
And canyons of the White Mountains.
Rays of morning sun glint scarlet-gold,
Leaves glow in dew-damp air,
Give promise of never-ending loveliness.
O opulent October,
You give us one last show before
November winds ravage leaf and limb
And all your red-gold harvest lies
In heaps upon the ground.
O, October, how can we feel gladness
Beguided by your pageantry...
When trees stand bare and mute,
We wil remember your grand performance
Was but the prelude to a death-like sleep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.