Time has shown us a favor:
Autumn's sunniest days.
Slowly breathe and then savor
softer, welcoming ways.
Time has let go of its reason,
calm and silence I feel:
Wounds that have festered all season
are beginning to heal.
Now my mind can endeavor
resting and loving for me,
changing my person forever,
comforting all that I see.
Softly let me attend to
changing colors at night:
Wilting, dying is near you
after blooming so bright.
What in the meadows is growing,
what is weaving its rings,
only strives to be showing
all the permanent things.
Blooming flower disperses
scent in chalices wide:
Holding the whole universe's
mystery hidden inside.
Emanuel von Geibel (1815–1884)
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