The forest, like a painted tower, Lilac, gold, purple, A merry, motley wall Stands above the light glade. Yellow carvings Birches Gleam in azure blue, Like towers, Christmas trees darken, And between maple trees turn blue Now there, here in the foliage through Gleams into the sky, that the window. The forest smells of oak and pine, Over the summer it dried out from the sun, And Autumn is a quiet widow Enters its motley terem. a source
