Autumn song

Quiet autumn, farewell song,
sad, sad croon.
It is heard as if: in the church sound,
choir soul chant.

In gold, birch trees were put on,
incense lies dal.
So the days of the Pokrovskaya blizzard passed.
Gray sky like steel --

cold blows on the multi-colored forest,
wind rips off foliage.
In the song of this call there is a cherished
to secret prayer, to fasting.