I throw leaves in handfuls into the fire,
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Blue smoke propping up the pale sky tent.
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They take off as ashes, burned to the end.
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I wipe the flakes of soot from my face with my hand.
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As if it had already happened, it's just fatigue,
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The indifference of the stone in my heart remained.
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The flame with the rustle of death burned the dry leaves,
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It's better than rotting, waiting for spring.
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Open the door for me and I will come in
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And I'll bring autumn with me.
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And if you ask me
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I will give it all to you.
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It is worth forgiving those who are small in soul
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Their grievances will fill the puddles with mud alone
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And your reflection in the muddy surface of the water
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I will destroy with white foam of saliva.
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Gold falls from a tired tree
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Right there the wind steals what was lost
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He grabs that hit by a strong paw of a predator
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And they pull the trees with their hands-branches, like a beggar.
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Open the door for me and I will come in
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And I'll bring autumn with me.
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And if you ask me
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I will give it all to you.
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How many years have passed, how many days have passed
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This is who, as he thinks, for whom it is more important.
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Something done by me or something done
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And what for yourself, well, what for someone.
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Happiness in seconds small, sharp,
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Generous to children and stingy to adults.
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A sticky bud will swell with a long-awaited spring,
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To become burning leaves in the fire in autumn.
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Open the door for me and I will come in
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And I'll bring autumn with me.
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And if you ask me
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I will give it all to you.
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Open the door for me and I will come in
|
And I'll bring autumn with me.
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And if you ask me
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I will give it all to you. |