The red evening is settling along the road
And rowan trees are sinking in mists and shade.
An ancient isba's doorway opens wide
Like jaws that chew the pungent quiet inside.
The loyal autumn chill lovingly stole
From farmyard through the haze to the fields of oats.
And through the blue window pane a boy
With golden hair and shining eyes gazed out.
Clinging to the chimney, greenish ash
Softly sifts from the oven's rosy light.
Someone's gone and the wind's tight-lipped shush
Whispers of one who's lost out in the night.
Someone's heels no longer crunch through groves
Crushing down golden leaves and golden grass.
To the barren trees a drawn-out sigh arose
Brushing a bristly owl's beak with a kiss.
The yard and cowshed are sullen with drowsiness,
The white road is bordered with a slippery ditch...
And nodding and lowing softly, the gentle cows
Stand with barley straw dangling from their lips.