I did not think it was autumn. Until I saw my hills.
The trees there have taken those warm colors, typical of the season. It 's a riot of yellow, red and orange, with some sprinkling of dark green now. The leaves fall in the wind whipping in a swirling, frenzied dance. And there is a carpet on the floor warm and soft.
My sweet down hills in the valleys, under a heavy rain and dense. Did not seem to fall, until his eyes were not filled with this landscape. And his heart missed a beat. How could I succeed in making you feel the immense love I have for that land, for those fields and the woods? E 'a sentiment that I feel every time, every season, the surprise is renewed and grows. I want you to see and hear what I see and hear. They, my hills, there will always be. With their autumn colors, reminding me that time passes, but no wonder.
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