Fly these old leaves that are full of pain.
Pierce these deep dunes, with your discolor wind.
Cross this sea of tin, with your waves of color.
Elevate these parched fronds,
raise these hearts without a voice,
emerge this innate joy,
that covers our dislike.
Flap autumn, hear our cry,
take this bitterness soon,
and cover our beautiful souls,
with your warm multicolored mantle.