Sweep the leaves together...
Yellow, brown and red.
Let us make a bonfire,
Now that they are dead.

Chestnut leaves and beech leaves...
Ash and lime and oak.
Fir-cones and pine needles,
Kindle into smoke.

Leaves that all the summer...
Gave us cool and shade;
What will be left of them,
When our bonfire's made?

Only death-like ashes...
But from this same dust,
Suns one day will fashion
Life anew, we trust.