Autumn


                  I

October has come - the grove already misses
The last leaves on its naked limbs; 
An autumn cold has blown - the road freezes,
Purling the brook beyond the mill still streams, 
But frozen is the pond; my neighbor promptly seizes 
The chance to exercise his hunting whims,
And suffer winter crops the savage larking,
And sleeping oak woods are woken up with barking.

                 II

Now it is my time: for spring I do not love;
Thaw boring is to me; stench, mud - in spring I'm sick;   
Blood ferments; my senses, mind are troubled, thereof
I would prefer a winter bleak.
I love her snows; with the moon above 
How a sledge run with a girlfriend free and quick, 
When being warmed up and fresh in sable furs,
Ablaze and tremblingly she takes your hand in hers! 

                 III

Or having put on skates, how cheerful it is
To glide upon a mirror-like unyielding river flow!
And winter holidays' illuminating thrills?..
But it's high time to stop; for half a year snow and snow,
The lodger of a den, a bear finally will tire of all this.
For an eternity we simply cannot go
Riding in sledges with young dames
Or mope by firesides and double windowpanes.

                 IV

Oh, summer glorious! I'd love you as long as
There were no mosquitoes and flies, and dust, and heat.
Spoiling all mental faculties one has,
You torture us; we suffer from your drought like wheat;
Just to get watered and freshened up - no other thought in us,  
We start to pity winter, the old hag, indeed,
And with pancakes and wine having attended her demise,
Serve her commemoration with ice-cream and ice.

                 V

Days of late autumn they usually scold,                            
But I am fond of her, my dear reader,
Of that mild beauty shining submissively with gold.               
Just as to me an unloved child seems sweeter 
Among his own folks. And if the truth be told,                            
Of all the seasons hers alone I am a joyful greeter.                   
She has much good; a lover of no self-esteem,
I did find something in her with a willful dream. 

                 VI

How is it to be explained? I like her as you may
At times find charming a consumptive maid.
Condemned to death, poor thing withers away
Without a murmur, without hate.
A smile upon her faded lips is seen; she fails to pay 
Attention to the gaping grave before her laid;
Still crimson colour in her face she's got.
She's still alive today, tomorrow she is not.

                VII

A gloomy time! Sensations' fascination!        
Your parting beauty pleasant to behold -     
I love the nature's splendid alteration,
All forests clothed in crimson and in gold,
In their halls wind's noise and chilly respiration,
A wavy mist cast over the sky's vault,
And the first frosts, and an infrequent sunny ray,
And hoary winter's threats from far away. 

                 VIII

And with each fall I blossom once again;                      
Cold weather makes my health feel stronger;        
Once more love to the habits of existence I regain;
By turn sleep flies away, by turn comes hunger;
Lightly and joyfully blood pulses in my vein,
Desires boil in me - I am happy, younger,  
I'm full of life again - such is my constitution
(Kindly forgive this needless prosaism inclusion).