Grasses and seeds blew west
and flowers turned grey upon my gaze,
my shunned head sought the night field,
my bed, my immovable hue.

Eastern wind;
follow my eye away from capsulate earth,
and grant sight of autumn moon, I seek greens,
reds, yellows and browns for my dimming eyes.

Let me sup of fall’s goblet
and listen to sunset's art,
let me see twilight's comfort,
hear rivers that lull
and strange birds sing among fallen leaves.

All are born under sun's mirror servant,
her rusty reflection speaks well of stars,
I can see your name in a new-born constellation.