Autumn sick and adored
You will die when the hurricane blows through the rose gardens
When it has snowed
In the orchards
Poor autumn
Die in whiteness and in richness
Of snow and ripe fruits
At the bottom of the sky
Sparrowhawks glide
Over the pretty nixes* with green hair and dwarfish
Who have never loved
At the distant edges
Stags have bellowed
And how I love oh season how I love your murmurs
The fruits falling without being picked
The wind and the forest that weep
All their tears in autumn leaf by leaf
The leaves
That are trodden
A train
That rolls
Life
Slips away
Guillaume Apollinaire
Translation generated by Poésies 123 with assistance from the deepseek-chat artificial-intelligence model.
Text published on Poésies 123: https://www.poesies123.com/en/poem-sick-autumn-guillaume-apollinaire/
