Autumn Poem by Anna Naumovych

Birds are flying over the city
So low, as it is a battlefield
They are screaming with no pity
It's a cruel tribute collector's ordeal

Like cleaners, they are gnawing out
From the city's body clots of leprosy
These birds understand all about:
The city will die and need a necropsy

After three months of spite
They will be wet, but not due to fever
People are trembling, but not because of fright
The God's concessions ceased, you, non-believers

Now He does not love or favor anyone
People have forgotten about the faith, after all
Everything has frozen. The city has died
Bird's feather will soon stop to fall.

© Anna Naumovych