All your friends have flown away,

yet you remain so soft

waiting for the autumn wind.

I will walk along with you,

the one who has stayed

to drink the salt air

and to die with cold flowers.

I understand why you are here.

The dunes. The waves.

You have chosen your place of rest.

And if only I could rest.

For my mind goes mad,

my body aches.

Still, I will live longer than you.

So, please, with the time you have left,

teach me to be beautiful

as if it is my nature,

and joyous

as if I have wings.

For these last days are yours.

Yours more than the gods.

They are all so jealous

to watch you die gracefully.