Is hiding its forehead in a circle of haze -

The hour when the giant star turns red then sinks to dust.

The trees on the hill are turning gold in its rays:

You might say that in these declining autumn days

The sun and the rain have turned the forest to rust.

Let it come and give life to everything i sing,

Oh spirit! - as in an autumn sky that's darkening -

And cast its magical reflection in my eye

And, dying out at length in muffled echoes in the mist

With the thousand towers of its fairy palaces,

Raise its violet crenellations in the sky!