I cannot write of things which even impassioned breath cannot utter. Autumn is coming with its days of gold, its days of reverie and of you—oh, such delightful hours that my heart burns within me at the anticipation.

The speaker frames emotion as exceeding language: even “impassioned breath” cannot fully voice what is felt. Against that inadequacy of expression, autumn becomes a symbolic season of heightened inwardness—“days of gold” and “reverie”—where memory and anticipation intensify. The direct address (“and of you”) shifts the passage from landscape description to intimate confession, suggesting a beloved whose presence (real or imagined) saturates the coming season. The closing image—“my heart burns within me”—captures desire as both pleasure and ache, emphasizing longing’s physicality and the way anticipation can be as consuming as fulfillment.