Dusk, chill, air of November
Wrapped in shawl of yellow leaves,
Trees shiver with cold.
The sound of falling leaves,
The solitude drenched in dew
Life is the autumn of the night.
In the fair of crazy weathers
Seeing the dance of pale leaves
Why does the air blow whistle?
With a slight mischief of yours,
You have stripped trees of leaves
O wind, how wanton you are!
Stirring the air,
The floating leaves
Go on and on clapping.