Autumn Poetry

I could not find an English version of one of my favourite seasonal poems, so I translated it myself (scroll down for the English version). 

Here's the most beautiful autumn poem ever. Written by Erik Axel Karlfeld. No matter what your mother tongue is, or what languages you know, please read the original Swedish first -it's fabulous and I doubt any translation can ever really catch its magic...

Nu är den stolta vår utsprungen, 
den vår de svaga kalla höst. 
Nu blommar heden röd av ljungen 
och hvitt av liljor älvens bröst. 
Nu är den sista visan sjungen 
av sommarens kvinnligt veka röst; 
nu stiger uppför bergens trappa 
trumpetarn storm i dunkel kappa.

Now the proud spring is hither

the spring called fall, by the meek.

Now the moor blooms red with heather

and white lilies by the river's creek.

Now the last feeble song 

of summer's tender voice has choked.

As Trumpeter Storm treads strong

up the mountain stairs all darkly cloaked.

..and this is just a fraction of the whole thing...this man was a genius