At night I drink the brew of apples,
That fell in autumn so late...
And I see the far valleys...
And the coming winter's gray hair...
I accept everything in the world,
Although I know it will not be easy
before winter in this late fall,
Because you are - far, not near...
Only the light of these apples of autumn
Warms me in my outcome,
Oh, my late autumn,
As spring you drive me mad...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem