The acrid scents of autumn,
Reminiscent of slinking beasts, make me fear
Everything, tear-trembling stars of autumn
And the snore of the night in my ear.
For suddenly, flush-fallen,
All my life, in a rush
Of shedding away, has left me
Naked exposed on the bush.
I on the bush of the globe
Like a newly-naked berry shrink
Disclosed; but ’tis I who am prowling
As well in the scents that slink
Abroad: I in this naked berry
Of flesh that stands dismayed on the bush!
And I in the stealthy, brindled odours
Prowling about the lush
And acrid night of autumn!
My soul, along with the rout,
Rank and treacherous, prowling,
For the night, with a great breath taken
Has drawn my spirit outside
Me, till I reel with disseminated consciousness
Like a man who has died.
At the same time stand exposed
Here on the bush of the globe,
A newly-naked berry of flesh
For the stars to probe.