Autumn By Vladimir Nabokov

Gold is covering emerald leaves, I can see cloudy heaven is numb, Asters, dahlias blooms among grieves like a garland they cannot succumb. Little rain is annoying sometimes, It is hanging like muddy cobweb, The wind plays with the foliage that lies, It will fly away newly, don't grab. And sometimes daring ray of sunshine will burn lightly with its rare kiss, Clouds run fast spinning over skyline - Clouds of numerous gold-plated leaves. November, 1915 P.S. This is my translation of poem by Vladimir Nabokov.