Autumn Colors
Autumn Waltz
George Bacovia
At windows, autumn plays a funeral march
In monotone, a waltz of mourning ... - Come,
Let's waltz, my darling, through the drawing-room
To the tune of autumn's mortuary dirge.
Listen, as the music clearly sounds
Across the stately, antique, solemn park, -
From sorrow-laden wooden instruments
At windows, autumn plays a funeral march.
Now as the waltz sighs, softly whispering,
O let me clasp you to me now ... - And come,
Let's waltz, my darling, shrieking as we turn
To the tune of autumn's mortuary dirge.
George Bacovia
At windows, autumn plays a funeral march
In monotone, a waltz of mourning ... - Come,
Let's waltz, my darling, through the drawing-room
To the tune of autumn's mortuary dirge.
Listen, as the music clearly sounds
Across the stately, antique, solemn park, -
From sorrow-laden wooden instruments
At windows, autumn plays a funeral march.
Now as the waltz sighs, softly whispering,
O let me clasp you to me now ... - And come,
Let's waltz, my darling, shrieking as we turn
To the tune of autumn's mortuary dirge.
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