A bow-legged peasant and his ox receding
Through the mist slowly through the mists of autumn
Which hides the shabby and sordid villages
And out there as he goes the peasant is singing
A song of love and infidelity
About a ring and a heart which someone is breaking
Oh the autumn the autumn has been the death of summer
In the mist there are two gray shapes receding
Guglielmo Apollinare de Kostrowitzky, a.k.a Guillaume Apollinaire
in Alccols
Sources: Selected Translations 1948-1968, W. S. Merwin
http://wutheringexpectations.blogspot.fr/2011/01/autumn-guillaume-apollinaire-from.html
