Yellow flower, grieving flower, pale flower, You were burnt by the sun and the hot rain. Ripe flower, matured flower, immaculate flower, You've nevertheless kept your phenomenal beauty sane.
The half-yellow and the half-green leaves Are trying to mimic your beautiful color. Mother Nature and Fauna are profusely in tears, And Squirrel and Nightingale in a state of horror.
Flower of one of the most somber and romantic seasons, Your exceptional beauty merits great admirations And your sweet and delicious sap is beyond words.
Flower, I'm coming tonight to rest on your turfs, To contemplate the stars and the sparks, The abandoned branches and the rods floating in the parks.