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</poem> | </poem> | ||
| <poem> | | <poem> | ||
Some flowers | Some flowers, their hand would they reach, | ||
Unto prewinter, ever holding. | |||
Even now no trace of winter does appear... | |||
Prewinter, they don't let it leave; | |||
Not falling yet are the tree leaves. | |||
Suspended in this atmosphere I do sing: | |||
"Let me always | "Let me always get You near!" | ||
As of yet winter's torpor, it has not arrived... | |||
Breath still does not float 'fore the eyes, | |||
And with colors orange groves are not bright... | |||
Suspended in this atmosphere I ask of Thee: | |||
" | "Incessantly why do You speak, 'I leave, leave, leave'?" | ||
</poem> | </poem> | ||
|} | |} |