My golden autumn passionate
Your thoughts and your curls.
You're the one between the brooding pines -
And sing about the evening of love.
Plunging into the tank timber,
You learned to kiss me.
These weasels and nocturnal songs -
Only night - light up again.
I am passionate and will stay longer
In your arms ecstatically
And Radiant dawn miracle
Sunbathing on the tops of the forest.
November 1902
