He leaves, slowly leaves,
Round head dissolving into mist.
Here where I am, memory gnaws me.
I close my eyes to keep his memory.
He leaves, slowly leaves
Round head melting into fog.
Here where I am, I play the guitar,
Autumn shakes the leaves, dry leaves.
You dissolve in the mist of an ashen day,
Leaving me to grow old in the long days.
I don’t like this departure at all.
Remember: this is where your flowers flame!
Some day, I will grow old, are you not sorry
To wear out your life with Mozart records?
You slowly leave and dissolve into mist.
Autumn shakes the leaves, dry leaves.
He leaves, slowly leaves,
Round head melting into fog.
Here where I am, memory gnaws me.
I close my eyes to keep his memory.
1985
Translated: John Hodgson