The final present of waning Summer
Is a peculiar warm day’s decline.
Trees’ gold yellow glow is like a rummer,
For a parting bow, with farewell wine.
…The celestial blazing went out…
By the last light specks all water dims.
Interworld revelations are a day’s last hours,
And we have just glanced there in.
Hark! By a royal hunt echo the woods rustle afar,
The aurochs horns echo sheds off foliage gold!
Where the wild geese honk o’er the rivers of Volga, Sheksna,
And Mologa, when leaving their homeland of Cold.
The day of Winds. Water ripples.
‘gainst the current in splashes of oars!
And to the dark fir land Autumn leaks
Now, as a crimson ice-cold afterglow!
Let’s praise acerbic drunkenness of these notable days –
Of the last generous days dressed in azure and gold!
Bring a parting bowl and have a drink yourself,
Summer, a wood bard, who’s clad in the marvellous clothes!
By the coldness of dew and scattered stars,
By the endless celestial height,
By the haze of grey days in rain gossamer
And by first snow the thoughts are stirred up!
…A dead leaf will lie on the fatigued ground.
Tears of dew on the leaf will be dried by hard rime.
Having shot upwards after the last flock, looking down,
Summer, flap with your wing from the frosty blue height!
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