Autumn Day

Lord, it is time. The summer was too long.　　

Lay your shadow on the sundials now,　　

and through the meadow let the winds throng.　　

Ask the last fruits to ripen on the vine;　　

give them further two more summer days　　

to bring about perfection and to raise　　

the final sweetness in the heavy wine.　　

Whoever has no house now will establish none,　　

whoever lives alone now will live on long alone,　　

will waken, read, and write long letters,　　

wander up and down the barren paths　　

the parks expose when the leaves are blown.