In The Days Of The Late Autumn Vasily Bargachan Poem by Yuri Starostin

In the days of the late autumn
The forests are
Open to all winds
And views.
And it is sad to me
That the miracles
Are not in the depths of the forests,
But near.
And hardly audible in the silence
The noise of the crowns
And the rustle of the drab leaves are.
Their prints
Till the spring
Sadly to cool
On the frozen glasses.
Rich the white air would
And will cover the earth as the first snow.
And the first stream
The shepherds
On the voiced sleds
(eh, fasts!)
Will draw by the laughing
Traces.