Autumn 

Lord: it is time. The summer was immense.

Let fall your shadows on the sundials,upon the fields let loose your winds.

Command the last fruits to be full;  give them just two more southern days,

Press them to completion, and chase the last sweetness into the heavy wine.

Who has no house now – he will never build.

Whoever is alone now, long will so remain; will stay awake, and read, and write long letters and wander the alleys up and down, restless, as the leaves are drifting.

Rainer Maria Rilke (Trsl. C.Z.)

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