Your branches reach the sky
and your changes blind my eyes
orange, yellow, red,
all I want to do is get out of my nest
admiring your falling beauties
makes me rush through your trees.
The sky might cry to see you bare,
and the winds wail to see you weak
but my eyes only see the wonder
in your carpets of dark striking colours
and your arms showing its true shades.
Oh, how can anyone cry at your sight,
oh pretty, pretty, let your leaves fly.