Autumn winds us freshens, poor leaf harshens To ground from tree for the man's feet on passes Each season Countless trees’ leaves blown ‘ve been For new fruits the ripen one shall or ‘ve us to pick Too heavy for branches to carry so tasty for tongues Opposite in summer a relief in the name of breeze Oh in spring! Leaves at night in need to grow much When winter comes, as slap over faces harsh a such Eyes, nose, lungs shake, a tear to shed of cold result