by Bella Akhmadulina
Clocks are beating, heralding an autumn:
And more heavy, than in the previous year,
Apple is striking the ground of orchard -
As much as there are the apples.
With that song, being clear, important,
Who is saying, that clocks are now still?
With that act and the orchard is bold,
But is seeming to be out of deal.
You see gradually in a sad nature
The expression of love and of kinship,
As if you - ain't the witness and casual,
But the hero of its triumph feast.
1973
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I thing original will be very beautiful. I know little russian, not much....