I am about to -- ,- [a translation]

I am about to cry,-

The leaves turn themselves a sad yellow, just so they can turn to earthy brown, in a few more weeks.  Much like the branch they hang tightly into a moment ago, which, in the end, they have to let go.  They hint—no, they shout—the coming of the fall, whose wind ushers you to hurry for your jackets.  And then you can go—or stay.

I am about to cry,-
And the day is unbearably long.  As if the sun's deliberately being stubborn; up there.  O, how I wish to say to you, "Please, let today leave early, just today.  Tomorrow you can come back, truly, unconditionally."

I am about to cry,-
And I'm busily looking for her, my shadow.  There she sits, on the bench with faded paint.  Has she got tired walking with me?

I am about to cry,-
Don't fall.  Don't stay too long.  And don't get tired.
Please.

[this one is a paraphrase of a friend's poem of the same title; see here .  done on her request and with her permission.]