Late autumn fog, cold dreams

Late autumn fog and cold dreams

cover mountain and valley;

a storm has already robbed the trees of leaves,

and they look spectral and naked.

Only one, a mournful, silent,

solitary tree, stands undenuded,

moist from nostalgic tears, it seems,

nodding its green head.

Ah, my heart is like this wasteland,

and that tree that I see there,

summer-green - that is your image,

well-beloved, beautiful woman!