Autumn. Forest thickets.
Moss dry marshes.
Lake whitish.
The sky is white.
The water-lilies faded,
And the saffron has blossomed.
Pathways are broken,
The forest is empty and it's a goal.
Only you are beautiful,
Though long dry,
In the hummocks of the bay
Old alder.
Feminine look
In the water half asleep -
And will be silvered
First of all by the spring.
Writer : Ivan Bunin
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