I stand near a broken fence
And the wind blows with leaves, wet –
I am uglier, I am hollow,
The cold begins to make the bottle sweat

On the street leaned downway
There’s an autumn like an old poetry –
The wind pushes the women’s skirts in the way
With one of them, a pair we’ll no more be

The autumn posters and flowers tears,
It’s sadder far away, in the abysses -
Start daily, more than once, fires ;
Oh, there must be sad far away in the abysses...
Wondering snow flakes...