Monday Morning Poem: Autumn Edition

A little Verlaine:

Chanson D'Automne Les sanglots longs des violons de l'automne blessent mon coeur d'une langueur monotone. Tout suffocant et blême, quand sonne l'heure. je me souviens des jours anciens, et je pleure... Et je m'en vais au vent mauvais qui m'emporte de çà, de là, pareil à la feuille morte...

Literal translation 1. The long sobs of autumn's violins wound my heart with a monotonous languor. Wholly breathless and pale, When the clock strikes, I remember the old days, And I weep. And I set off in the ill wind that carries me here and there, Like a dead leaf.

Figurative 2.The agonized Mourning, of Autumn’s boughs on strings, Fill me with a heartache Dull and desolate. All is smothered, Chilled, and white At the toll of passing time I remember our brief love And weep. I will come, sweet memory with the first fall wind That will carry my frame Like a dead leaf, To your icy lips.