Dmitri Kedrin. Song of Autumn. (translated by Simon Safro)

Dmitri Kedrin

Song of Autumn

 

 

Birds are flying overseas.

The time of harvest passed.

Rests on cold and greyish frieze

Withering leaves crust.

 

The sun hid in glassy fog,

Like behind silks.

As a black and brown fox

Wood lay by the hills.

 

A spider that predicts long storm

Slipped by aery steps

On the window it performed -

Crept and hung on nets.

 

Songs are heard in a flue at night.

On the hewn grey roofs

Squeaking spirits of fall are quiet,

Rain is beating aloof.

 

You will come some chilly day,

Early with the sun.

The yard is boring, what to say -

Flowers are gone.

 

The cold sweat on a wild ash

Will glitter on the twig,

And rain as a tiny thrush

Will peck fruit in a flick.