Oh those magical mists of autumn!
That instantly take the sting from summer,
When all around the harvest of nuts and fruits
Brings final activity in orchards and vineyards.
Opening the morning door brings freshness
So unlike the fire of a summers morn,
That made us mourn for autumns gifts.
And here they are, and more, to enjoy aplenty.
God is the pattern, the Father of all
giving with true paternal love.
Would that everyone named Pater
Would be as kind and generous as this.
If only every Abba, Atma, Papá, Père
Whose face appears and disappears
In every magical autumn mist
Was there from present or from past.
Looking out at the shrouded vale
As if the land itself had disappeared,
Asks what else is hidden from our view?
Oh! He is there, is always there! Trust the veil
And dare to look through.
With unhidden Love, Hanukah