Autumn Arriving

Golden late light fades and at last dies down,
day narrows to streaks of red.
Leaf-weariness of trees makes itself felt within
—brief nights no more seduce me from my bed.

In cold weather little offers lee,
every leaf withers, lets go, and is gone.
Oh, had I only, like this tree
as summer passed, sunk my roots deeper down.


Autumnal Equinox, by Olafur Johann Sigurdsson, trans. George Johnston