Sommarens sista minut (The last minute of summer)

Summer has gone.
I have all I need.
The harvest is safe in the barn and the loft.
My basket is bare,
emptied at the fair,
where the fruit was sold when time was ripe.

The last minute of summer
is counted when the autumn blooms.
The rays of sunshine paints strikingly
a shimmering feast in the end.
The sweetest moment of farewell –
the last second of summer.
Before all is frozen, so glowingly shines
a fire in a quiet grove.

Air that is clear,
the beauty still here
even since the meadow has lost its blooms.
Leaves that will die,
seeds that will fly
down to the carpet where seed pods stand empty.

The wind takes hold of the park,
so relentless and strong.
It tears the branches and sweeps the leaves
spread out on the frozen ground.
The leaves may dance in a ring
The wind may howl aloud.
Summer is over with all that I need.
Now there is nothing that I miss.