To whom do you give the leaves, who are you hiding in the mists? - You're somehow younger and on your own you set everything up. Again with hands on a caring bride, you will tear the last fruit. And the rains will follow you - it will rain, it will be blessed. Autumn is not sad even when crying spills colorful colors and the wind carpet weaves. On the blooming branches draws the gentle drops of dew and raced with rays of rays on the ridges of every mountain. Blushing white hair and turns the rivers, and bathing in the sea and sings with the seagulls. Autumn is not sad, I hear her laugh, she dances at will every night under the stars. Autumn is not an old woman witty and evil, it is a whisper of a bird in flight, free ...
