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Poetry Pleases: Autumn

William Ruleman captures the season and its colours in well-honed words.

A translation of “Herbst” by Detlev von Liliencron (1844-1909)

The garden’s asters are now in bloom.
Sun’s arrow strikes more feebly. Lost
Pale flowers await their doom
Via the hangman’s ax of frost.

Leaves quiver upon the air.
The heather’s browned a long time since.
And wood and pasture both lie there
Motionless, in bluish scents.

Peaches on the garden wall,
Cranes upon their winter route—
Joy of autumn, sorrow of fall,
Withered roses, ripened fruit.

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