Sound of leaves

Beating in the ear with the force of strong, cold winds

A music of fall

The roses of poetical spring weep everywhere

Colours are plaintive

Nightingales in quiet lands lament

Single melancholy notes

Fountains are lost in thick mists of sorrow

Waters drip tenderly

Swans draw in their slender necks

In the search for spring

Plains groan in tears, hills weep in pangs of separation

Every sound is an elegy

Blue, green, pink and orange colours are in mourning

Each is groaning deeply

Like the last minutes of a life about to terminate

Every wail is a farewall

When looked to carefully, the end of the world is visible

What an alarming scene!

Spring and summer are each an enchanting memory

Lost in romantic fancies

Yet those fancies open to hopes stirring in the conscience

Diverse routes to the realms beyond

Eternity is sensed in each impression of transience,

Until man catches sight of it

Reason and logic are refined to seek out that other world

Reaching the realm of inspiration

Man feels the mysterious silence of death

Problems are resolved finally

Everyone sees the end of the way he treads

Kneels down trembling

Tongue-tied with dread of going into non-existence

Faith opens up a way to new horizons

Sobbing that his inevitable end is at last at hand

Every sends out lights

Thought falls into earth like a seed

To prepare itself for spring

It hastens to where it reaches gardens of Eden

To meet with the beloved

Without feeling pain or anguish

As treasured as a welcome bride,

One overflows with delight to feel eternity

As enrapturing as eternity itself

Fall is the sign that a new birth is on the way

Coming at the break of down

Hope resounds throughout fall without ceasing at all

Spring awaits a few steps away

trembling like the candlelight. At break of day

he walks amid mountains splitting with grief;

and he would desire their time of happiness,

though himself in Paradise.

Wherever he looks, darkness prevails:

lush-green hills, jewel-like islands, all are

bathed in gloom. For him each new day

begins a new autumn: the people’s hopes

tumbling like leaves, his spirit bowed

under the weight of their sorrows.

His heart beats in fear of new misfortunes,

his eyes burn with the fever of anxiety:

nights are slow and long: mornings freshen

hopes and pass; on his lips still linger

the songes of endurance.

At times brimful of high, ecstatic hopes, so

exalted he could touch the edge of the Infinite,

he calls out in a voice like impassioned thunder.

and if the people hear, their hearts echo

his passionate ardour.

Unseen by others, noble aims wrestle in his mind;

the holiness of his cause colours the ground he treads.

He resolves to set, each day, one fellow-traveller

upon the right road, in the hope that day is the day

when the gloom shall disperse.

At times, forces of unbelief knock him, everyone,

senseless; and persecutions, like bloody spikes.

are thrust into his soul. At times, spring fragrances

fan the air around him and gentle breezes blow

with diverse, subtle perfumes.

***