Sep 24, 2010

Summer is Gone

Summer is Gone
Ancient Irish poem translated by Kuno Meyer

My tidings for you: the stag bells,
Winter snows, summer is gone.

Wind high and cold, low the sun,
Short his course, sea running high.

Deep-red the bracken, its shape all gone--
The wild-goose has raised his wonted cry.

Cold has caught the wings of birds;
Season of ice--these are my tidings.

1 comment:

  1. Lovely, Cindy! Thanks for sharing. I love autumn.