Sometimes we are drawn to solitude,
To float quietly on the waves of beauty.
And, gilded with autumnal sadness mood,
To gather faded flowers tidy.
Let the dark gray sky grow gloomy,
And the tired leaves rustle there;
We call autumn beautiful belle,
And this beauty is visible here.
Yes, it is not bright, not flashy nude,
And the city rustles beyond the park,
If we just retreat into deep solitude,
It will help us better than a balm.