[創作] Why, my fair autumn, do thou co …
My fair autumn, why dost thou come so late?
Since the bright radiance of summer's face
Had burnt down my flesh in her reigning date,
And so my aspiring to live in grace.
The fools called thee the season of killing.
Indeed under thy charms the petals do fade,
And stout boughs to bare frame soon pining,
Slash our souls with a melancholic blade.
But revives again from death the newborn.
Once was rotten now the sprouts doth nourish,
And to thy pale-gray sentiment forlorn,
Some poetic hearts leap up and flourish
To fill their bosoms with elegant sorrow,
And weave it into chants for a new morrow.
--
Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini.
--
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