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And again the leaves turn autumnal,
in front of our feet they are blown
On and on we must go,
We see no end to the road.
The thoughts draw misty
Over the field, empty and sad.
Sometimes the wind sighs wistfully,
The wind that knows our fate...
Withered leaves fall,
Like dreams, dreamed in vain.
It's better not to dream anymore,
To be able to walk through the black night.
Maria Rutkowska: And Again the Leaves Turn Autumnal (1944)
Original language: Polish