The autumn skies are flushed with gold,
And fair and bright the rivers run;
These are but streams of winter cold,
And painted mists that quench the sun.
De aur ud e-al Toamnei cer,
Şi aleargă gârle lucitoare;
Dar ele-aduc iernatic ger
Şi ceţi ce tabără spre soare.
In secret boughs no sweet birds sing,
In secret boughs no bird can shroud;
These are but leaves that take to wing,
And wintry winds that pipe so loud.
Prin crângul tainic sturzi nu sunt,
Prin cârnguri sturzul nu se-aude;
Ci frunze-s doar, zburând pe vânt,
Şi zvon de vijelii zălude.
‘Tis not trees’ shade, but cloudy glooms
That on the cheerless valleys fall;
The flowers are in their grassy tombs,
And tears of dew are on them all.
Sub pomi nu-i umbră, pâcle-s doar,
Ce cad pe văile-ntristate;
Flori zac pe fânul funerar,
Şi-i rouă – lacrimi – peste toate.
Jill and John go to an art gallery. They find a picture of a naked woman with only her privates covered with leaves. Jill doesn’t like it and moves on but John keeps standing there and looking. Jill asks, „What are you waiting for?”