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When the symbolic autumn comes
it floods the surroundings with vehement melancholy
the bird, in its flock, rises in flight
following the sun on its atavistic adventure.

Serene scenario with long nights
of extreme reflection which moves the soul
pride sighs in remnants of the past
inexperienced in October’s vicissitudes.

Old age isn’t a time of banishment
or the anathema of an apocalyptic season
implicit in life, it’s dawn and twilight
to deny it, fatuous heresy.

Longevity is triumphant power
over the avatar that lies in wait on the path
a feat cloaked in a silver mantle
[SIZE=3]the modest garment of the honorable old.[/SIZE]