Evening Song of Thanksgiving

Most of the nude and swaying countryside still speaks with sad,shreking and mournful sounds; its stripped trees are bulky and tepid as moisture continuously ascends from the languid ground! Only a pensive,middle-aged man walks curiously along the wide paths flanked by jasmine, and a casual pine: where the marvis pauses,unmindful of the gray squirrel! Yet,incredibly,some shy violets shows its frosty petals from among the dry,russet leaves; how unhappy it is from that useless shelter... regardless of the coming sorrow of its annual fate! The wandering white-haired man is very impressed by the tranquil landscape, and occasionally stops a second,delighted, to catch a glimpse of the glaring sun! Some faint voice quivers into the intensifying darkness; it's heard often...never to dominate the stillness! Another clearer voice follows after that first one,vibrating: it's the evening song of thanksgiving!