Wet are the meadows, ranges and fields,
mild winds are blowing constantly,
the world is veiled with a misty haze
and the sky is always grey.
From the trees the leaves are falling,
everything looks naked and bare;
the rivers do expand, are brimming,
clouds are spilling raindrops.
The night comes early, long stays the night,
days become short and cool
and no moon shows us the way at night;
every feeling is hollow and faint.
The streets are empty and lonely,
silence moves in the city,
alone a walk through sable alleys,
hoping November will soon pass by,
dreaming in my warm chamber
of spring flowers and sunshine;
near is christmas with its glimmer,
the world will become white and fulgent,
then happiness returns again,
healing of Novemberpain.
(Hope you like it. Please feel free to comment. I'm open for every helpful suggestion.)