The sullen temper of autumn

Poetic Re-Creation in English

suddenly bloomed

upon the green arch of the garden.

A leaf,

that once danced light-footed

with every flicker of the breeze,

slipped quietly

into the damp solitude of the soil.

The quarrel with the uninvited guest

breathed the dimness of doubt

into the unruly air

of tomorrow.

Yet the bright song

still shone

within the ancient faith

of the poplar.

The dance of clouds

upon the indigo waves of sky

gave birth to an untold tale.

The earth,

after the gentle rain,

clothed itself

with the blazing flame

of the sun.

A crimson hundred-petaled rose,

beside the drenched stem of geranium,

tasted the ecstasy

of embrace.

The weary soul,

longing for a sign of home,

fluttered restlessly,

while the heart remained

bound to a day

that had not yet come.

The amber dream of autumn,

barefoot and stealthy,

rushed between—

yet the music of blossoms

could surely be seen again

in the expectant eyes

of the garden.

Arsalan – Wiesbaden, September 5, 2025