Autumn
As if from afar, leaves are falling,
like from distant withering gardens in the sky;
they fall with a rejecting movement.
And at night, heavy earth falls again,
from stars, everything falls into solitude.
We all fall, even this hand here.
Look, the other one: everything simply falls.
And yet there is Someone who holds all these falls
immensely gently in His hand.
(Rainer Maria Rilke /1875–1926/,
translation Lumír Čivrný)