Overcast With a Chance of Melancholy

A gust roused the waves,
leaves blew into the water,
the waves were ash-gray,
the sky tin-gray,
ash-gray the autumn.

It was good for my heart:
there my feelings were ash-gray,
the sky tin-gray,
ash-gray the autumn.

The breath of wind brought cooler air,
the waves of mourning brought separation:
autumn and autumn
befriend each other.


Leaves Fell, by Juhan Liiv, trans. by H.L. Hix & Juri Talvet


The end of another tiring week arrives at last. Amy heads out to Halifax tomorrow to get Joe's stuff out of storage. Wandering around the field, everything feels like it's had enough and could use a good rest. A few crows follow me around, probably wondering why I keep stopping for no apparent reason and just stand around thinking about all the things that look different. Pretty sure the field will get mowed soon.


Interesting translator's notes on the poem here.