Now are come the days of brown leaves. They fall from the trees; they flutter on the ground. ... I hear them tell you of their borning days, when they did come into the world as leaves. ... Today, they were talking of the time before their borning days of the springtime. ... They told how they were a part of earth and air, before their tree-borning days. And now they are going back. They go back to the earth again. But they do not die.
Over all the mountaintops is peace,
In all the treetops, scarcely a breath;
The little birds in the forest are silent.
Wait then; you, too, will have peace.