November story

Like a garden pavilion from anno dazumal,
the multi-stemmed pine grows on the shore.
Heavy limbs bend down like a pagoda roof,
protecting against the autumn grief.
The view out over the lake is calming.
The surface is grey and closed,
like a turned-off television receiver.
No disturbing signals reach us here today.
In the pine tree’s top lives a wise old dragon.
It is dangerous to be seen on this track,
where the moss is weaving gobelins between the roots.
The night will come, and Saturn —
like the fireplace with its ring of stones.
After every end, we will find
still another day to be together on,
before the whiteness, the snow.

(text & music from 1992, and the Haydn reference was unintentional!)