The yellow leaves fly with the wind Covering the graves bellow the willow The old man stands in the doorway Wiping his eyes with soiled sleeve He kneels at the foot of the graves And touches the timeworn epitaph Blessed are the pure in heart For they shall see god The grief of loss claws at his bleak soul The wind carries the first freezing rain With the rain appears a light The bright ray of the cold autumn day It illuminates the cliff beyond the field And cast vast shades upon the soaked grass The man recoils from his distant thoughts The rain flows along his furrowed cheeks He stares at the warmth of caressing light And weeps the unseen tears with the rain He touch the grass with the palm of his hand And lets the wind sway him towards the past He follows the path of forgotten oblivion And banishes in the rain on his dying day