They tell me she's charm’ng,
That autumn, as I do not see her infernal secrets,
Her lullaby, her hands and the long slumber that’s disarming,
As winter’s blanket will slowly cover and makes us equal,

My spirit once had love but this day now, at th’s  tired struggle,
the love of my life gave her fatal stroke,
goodbye, welcome, crime, horror and winter’s tussle ,
my love, passion and hope for the flowers, soon to die, broke.

is not you, autumn with sun so clear and so white
yes, in me you see the twilight of such a day
Those so very white summer’s flowers soon dying of blight
I hate passion and the spite of it makes me hurt with’n your latest ray

Like the seasons, as they are yearly new and old,
So is my love still telling me what has been told.