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Autumn leaves go drifting, Guided by the breeze, Softly as a memory Rising from the deep. Aaah, aaah… For my tired soul Longing to sleep. Autumn winds, oh carry All I cannot hold, Take it to the place where Memories turn gold. Aaah, aaah… For the wanderer is weary, Growing old. Through my quiet village Gentle breezes roam, Rocking chestnut trees that Line along the road. Ma-ay they Softly hold My mother and my father Till I’m home. October 2025 Autumn Leaves came from the kind of homesickness that settles deep in your bones. Once you leave the place you grew up in, no matter how far or how close you move, there is always a quiet longing that never fully goes away. It’s the understanding that your roots stay where they were planted, even if your life continues somewhere else. That year, the feeling was overwhelming. I missed my little village, Tállya in Hungary, with an ache that surprised me in its strength. I missed the chestnut trees lining the road, the breeze moving gently through the fields, the way autumn always arrived softly, carrying memories on its back. But most of all, I missed my parents, their presence, their warmth, the certainty of knowing they were just a few steps away. Distance changes the shape of love. It makes you more aware of time passing, of seasons turning, of the people who held your beginnings growing older with each autumn that drifts by. This song came from that realisation, from the wish that the winds could hold them safely until I return, and from the understanding that home is not just a place, but the people who wait for you there. Autumn Leaves is my memory of all that: the village that shaped me, the parents who nurtured me, and the quiet hope that they are gently held until I find my way back home. Song/lyrics by Krisztina Ustinov Brought to life by Suno