Lord, it is time. The summer has been grand.

Soothe the sundials with your gentle, cooling shade,

And from the glades blow winds across the land.

Command the fruit to ripen on the vine;

Grant them but two more warm and southern days,

Urge them towards swelling perfection and raise

The last sweet taste within the heavy wine.

Whoever has no house won’t build one now

And long will remain so, he who is alone

Will read, write letters, and wake on his own

And in the alleyways up and down

Restlessly wander when the leaves are blown.

Rainer Maria Rilke

Herbsttag