I wander through the Grove & nbsp; enjoying
the smell of autumn, the rustle of leaves.
In silence, as in water, I am bathing
autumn listen to the whisper of the grass.
The leaves rustle softly under my feet
somewhere nearby, a titmouse is squeaking
the sun gentle rays
autumn late thanks.
On a bench near an old oak tree
I'll sit and rest for an hour.
Grove, Grove believe me not forget
it's a nice, fine day.
I'll rest my body and soul,
what used again in the hustle and bustle with the head.
Only it will be remembered and for business
Groves of old autumn peace.