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The Autumn

Kalchenko Nikita, 11A

Brooks carry falling leaves
And sing in tune with birds.
Through rustle of the trees
You will hear the words
Of song of wind and rain,
Of poultry, flocks and herds.
Of amber waves of grain…
You will hear the words
Of song about you,
About woods in colourful dress
And mushrooms in the dew
And nature’s fruitfulness
Oh, dear, you’ve arrived
And at the every farm
Your name is glorified
For open-handed arms.
Oh, season of the rain!
Oh, time to harvest crop!
The autumn is your name,
And harvest is your job.
You filled the fields of men
With grain — crops all around.
And every ear on them
Bend down to the ground.
You reaped all grains from fields
And made them into stacks
And with the help of winds
You threshed and winnowed them
And put them into sacks.
Oh, season of the rain!
Oh, time to harvest crop!