Last of poppies are loosing their petals,
Flocks of cranes fly away, honking low;
Even nature, in this painful paleness
Doesn’t look like herself anymore.
Through deserted and bare autumn alley,
Stepping mindlessly on fallen leaves,
Hatless, cold, hatless, cold, hatless, cold, full of misery swelling,
Why are you walking, heart on your sleeve?
Flora’s life is in hiding for now
In these strange broken limbs of the trees.
What has happened to you, dear, and how
Has your soul found dark gloom in this mist?
How’ve dared you let this real beauty,
Priceless precious and deep soul of yours,
Slip away, fly away, sneak away, so it wanders around in pity,
So it perishes far from your doors?
And so what that your house may have weak walls,
And your road in to darkness may delve -
There’s no sadder betrayal in the whole world,
Than the treason committed to self.
Committed to self...