The autumn rain plays blues, Leaves are whirling with a farewell touch. And I won’t think, let it be, About the small and the great so much. Umbrellas flash around in the fog, In the veil of cloudy haze. We in this world, dear friend, Have gained and lost in various ways. The dripping tram, without haste, Will dock at the wet stop. Its soul will open at last, And I’ll alight, somewhat clumsy, I’ll cop. In autumn blues I’ll dissolve, As soon as the tram’s bell rings. With you forever I’ll resolve, Having lost everything without meeting the strings. Sadness droplets on the glass, And autumn sifts through the rain. I can’t return to that place, On a rainy evening, at eight again. Where in the fallen silence, Only that tram bell sounds, And a kiss would give me tenderness, As the stranger departs, all around.
