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.