I love this poem from Paul Verlaine, Chanson d’automne, in it’s original French version of course.  It goes like this:

Les sanglots longs
Des violons
De l’automne
Blessent mon coeur
D’une langueur
Monotone.

Tout suffocant
Et blême, quand
Sonne l’heure,
Je me souviens
Des jours anciens
Et je pleure

Et je m’en vais
Au vent mauvais
Qui m’emporte
Deçà, delà,
Pareil à la
Feuille morte.

~ Paul Verlaine

Autumn 1

Autumn 2

Autumn 3

Autumn 4

Autumn 5

Autumn 6

Autumn 7

And, for you that would like to see it translated, though it loses a bit of magic, here goes…

The long sobs
Of the violins
Of Autumn
Wound my heart
With a monotonous
Languor.

All choked
And pale, when
The hour chimes,
I remember
Older days
And I cry

And I’m going
On an ill wind
That carries me
Here and there,
As if a
Dead leaf.

~ Paul Verlaine

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