Before autumn passes, I will leave to wander,
Tread, tread, a small feeble thing swaying in the wind
Below lazy clouds that happily drift away,
In the distant shimmer of an endless sunset.

Leave to wander under the warm evening light,
And ask to be carried away, carried away,
Sprout wings and fly against a growing gale, but I,
Am left to wonder, how far I can be taken,
By an unsure wing whose feathers shake and shiver,
By my body whose hands are pressed against its chest,
Hoping to find its heart, still beating as it should.

Leave to be flown, over rivers, hills and moutains,
Riding the wind, up to a lonely aerie,
Where secluded, bright crimson autumn trees have grown,
Shedding, unendingly, their leaves into the breeze.

Arrive to sit atop, hugging my own body,
To feel the warmth filtering through to my fingers,
To feel my hair flare up and flitter about me,
Lit by the sunlight into a dancing fire.

Wait until the day falls into a gentle night,
Lie down, breathe slowly, softly whisper to myself.
And dream beneath a blanket of stars, forever,
As the careless carmine leaves float down and away.

Before autumn passes, I will be left to sleep,
Until the leaves fall to earth, the earth becomes dust,
Until the dust scatters, before the wind ceases,
Before the world falls silent, before the light dies.