In the damp lost hollow,
For the little hard grey
White blossoms once
Delighted his eyes…
In autumn, the thin blades of grass
began to cry instead of
Because its paws tread
Upon yellow leaves.
Gloomyly, rainyly, inclement
Autumn has arrived here.
All the cabbage is harvested—
There is nothing to steal there
The poor whet hare hops up
Near the wet pines tall,
Dreading the sharp teeth’s white
It thinks of come summer,
Presses back his ears thin
Glances at the sky with hope
But the sky is hidden and not ever seen
If only it were a bit warmer,
If only it were a few drier…
They are so unpleasant sensations
To step through the water shoeless
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