Sta.sh
Golden shades lie on the autumnal wood.
The wood liked to talk in the speech of beech and oak.
Wild ducks who fly on sadly
Have nothing to regret and are far from this doom.
Being sorry for whom?
We all are wandering, roving –
You come and go and leave the empty home.
It dreams of those who roam through the world
And deep in the pool the moonlight is drowning.
I am alone. Everywhere reigns silence.
The wild ducks have gone by the wind long ago.
I am yearning for the leaves' abundance –
On the damp woody ground multi-coloured jewels are gathering.
Although, the flames of colours are manifold,
The yellow foliage of the ashes stays tight.
I let my words fall sorrowful
Like the trees let fall their leaves.
And once when time – in sign of new stars –
Will sweep away those leaves,
It must be said that the autumnal wood liked
To talk in its speech of beech and oak to them.
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