Annual Transience

– S¨ ren Wellh¨ fer o o

A

TUMN IS DEATH ;

all seems to decay; takes a last breath, and withers away. Now winter is hailing, with shiv’ring squalls; and trees are wailing, in agoniz’d calls. As night descends, the welkin blears, brume it portends, and adumbrates fears. Sun without meaning, in strength now void; her only one leaning, by twilight destroy’d.

In darkness draped, and veiled by gloom, gleams dimly shaped, the shadowy loom. Ordained by hell, life shall desist; this year as well, must not resist. Yon’ forlorn course, condemns to perish; dispatched by force, as daemons cherish.