Summer’s funeral has surely come!
For sure it is bedtime for the warmth
and the awakening of the chill.

Trees have been ***** of their leaves.
All that stands are their naked bodies;
opened to the abuse of winter.

How beaten we are, how abused by each other.
Shall hell’s fury or heaven’s grace rule?
Our moon cuts a wink for us in the night sky,

shall we ever be mocked further?
From spring’s birth to summer’s life,
fall’s ill to winter’s death.