Autumn is on the doorstep

Autumn soon. The sky frowns.
The foliage turned yellow at the linden
But sadness, in general, is ridiculous.
Beauty comes in color.

The mountain ash will burn with fire,
will blow gold from the birches.
And on harvested ridges and fields
the crow will seriously quarrel:

about the past gentle summer,
about carefree cozy warmth,
about the one who left in the royal carriage
carefree happy time.