European Elegies/Autumn (1)/Autumn dirge

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14.AUTUMN DIRGE

Autumn beginsWith violinsOf lament,Wounding my breastWith dull, oppressedDiscontent.
Roused by the shocksOf stricken clocksFrom pale sleep,I think uponSweet nights now gone;And I weep.
And my heart fliesDown wailing skies,In my griefBlown here and thereAs down night airThe dead leaf.


From the French of Paul Verlaine.
(By permission of Albert Messein, Paris.)

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