The Autumn by Alexandr Pushkin

October has already arrived—the grove is already shaking

the last leaves from its naked branches away;

The autumn chill has breathed—the road is frozen,slipping.

The stream still murmurs behind the mill its way,

But the pond has already frozen; my neighbor is hurrying

Into the distant fields with his fast hunting,

And the winter crops suffer from this frantic frolic,

And the barking of dogs awakens the sleeping oaks…