I am throwing armfuls of leaves in a bonfire,
Propping bleak pavilion of the sky with blue smoke.
They burn to the ashes and fly up in the sky,
I'm rubbing flakes of soot off my face.
It feels as if this has happened before, and it's just fatigue
That makes my heart feel as indifferent as a stone.
The flame with a death rustle burns dry leaves
It is better than rotting waiting for the spring.
Open the door, I'll come
And bring autumn with me,
And if you ask me,
I ll give all of it to you.
Forgive the ones with shallow souls,
Their grudges can only fill puddles with dirt.
I'll aim and destroy my reflection in muddy water surface
By white foam of saliva.
Gold keeps raining from a tired tree,
The wind instantly steals the lost,
It grabs anything it can by strong paw like a predator,
And the trees extend their branches hands as beggars.
Open the door, I'll come
And bring autumn with me,
And if you ask me,
I ll give all of it to you.
How many days and years one have lived
Depends on the way one counts, what's more important for them.
Some things I have done, and some-not
For myself and some-for the others.
Happiness in the small sharp seconds
So generous to children and stingy to the adults
Will swell like a sticky bud in the long-awaited spring
To become burning leaves in the autumn bonfire.
Open the door, I'll come
And bring autumn with me,
And if you ask me,
I ll give all of it to you.