Chanson D’Automne - Paul Verlaine

Leaf-strewing gales
Utter low wails
     Like violins,—
Till on my soul
Their creeping dole
     Stealthily wins….

Days long gone by!
In such hour, I,
     Choking and pale,
Call you to mind,—
Then like the wind
     Weep I and wail.

And, as by wind
Harsh and unkind,
     Driven by grief,
Go I, here, there,
Recking not where,
     Like the dead leaf.

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Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896) France
Translated by Gertrude Hall