The autumn trees, I pity them.
Although their leaves are inflamed by a deep strawberry red - an olive green
or.. a sunset gold; cherished they are not!
But trampled underneath our clumsy feet..
For fools we are - who do not see true beauty.
Clinging to dull passion, we despise the wind that sweeps away the green.
Join me then, as a rebel of the early morning shade - where the whole world
will look the same...
And let it not be our time that's wasted! No, let it be them who squander their view
and misinterpret nature's intentions!
We will praise all the colours in the sky - why then won't we, just as eagerly,
embrace the dance of seasons?
Maybe this root of vanity is reason enough for calling upon self-reflection.
Because the leaves will fall - regardless of our affection
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