October and Pushkin, the Poet

                  Alexander Pushkin,   ‘Autumn’

                  1799-1837,  Russian Poet

   

October has arrived - and now the grove

Has shed its final leaves from naked boughs.

The autumn cold has blown – and frozen roads.

Behind the mill the burbling brook still sounds.

But now the pond is still. My neighbor goes

Off to the distant field to hunt. His hounds

Will wake the woods with all their barking noise,

As winter wheat is crushed by frenzied joys.

Men often curse chill autumn‘s final days

But I, my dear reader, always see with love

Her gentle beauty, with its somber blaze,

She touches me the way a child does,

For whom none cares. And frankly I must say,

That fall’s the only time of year I love;

She’s kind and good; and in her I discover

A wayward dream to charm a humble lover.

                        

 Translated by James E. Falen

 From ‘Selected Lyrical Poetry’  (2009)