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Popular Indian Summer Poems
Indian summer has come -
Days of farewell warmth.
Warmed by the late sun
In a crack, the fly came to life.
The sun! What is more beautiful in the world
After a chilly day? ..
Cobweb lung yarn
Twisted around the bitch.
Tomorrow the rain pours fast
Cloudy sun screening.
Silver spider webs
There are two or three days left to live.
Pity autumn! Give us the light!
Protect from winter darkness!
Have pity on us, Indian summer:
These cobwebs are us.
* * *
Autumn in taiga steps down the mountains.
In deciduous crunch, in star dawn ...
Watch the huge bonfire burn
Golden and crimson trees.
Run through the grass tar pitch,
By birches in the networks of the web,
And burn with gems in yellow foliage
Bright red bunches of mountain ash.
Soon the goose will fly again,
But we will believe the old signs,
What bird cherry blossoms in autumn
Fortunately for this Indian summer.
Wary dark mountain valley
In the silence of malachite pines.
Go to the forest clearing again
Hops autumn drunk moose.
The stars will break and fall into the taiga
We’ll wait for the dawn around the fire ...
I'll take the mountain ash taste of your lips
Like a reminder of Indian summer.
* * *
A leaf of currant is rough and cloth.
Laughter and glass are ringing in the house
In it they shred, and ferment, and pepper,
And the cloves are put in the marinade.
The forest casts like a mocker
This noise on a steep slope
Where is the hazel burnt in the sun
Like the heat of a bonfire scorched.
Here the road goes down to the beam
Here and dried up old driftwood,
And the patchwork of autumn is a pity
Everything sweeping into this ravine.
And the fact that the universe is simpler
What does the cunning think different
What a grove is lowered into the water
What comes to an end all.
That it’s pointless to clap your eyes
When everything is burned before you
And autumn white soot
Web pulls out the window.
The passage from the garden in the fence is broken
And lost in the birch.
There is laughter and an economic hubbub in the house,
The same noise and laughter in the distance.
* * *
Distant stars cold dewdrops
Like gems in the velvet of heaven.
The frosty tremors tremble
The alarmingly empty forest is silent.
The daytime sky was ash and faded
The ground is covered with dead leaf.
How long have they blamed drought and hell?
And again flocks of birds overhead.
Transparent web of fiber
Dried stubble twisted
And a quiet ray of orange sun
Refers to cooled ground.
* * *
I like the cool air of the log,
Where it smells of spruce, moss and water.
There’s a slight anxiety in my soul
When a goat breaks off the trail.
The timid aspen leaves rustling with leaves,
The woodpecker beeps like a conductor
And like a forgotten voice of a harpsichord,
The restless spring murmurs.
And the currant aroma is so gentle
And so the first mushrooms are neat,
And crowds of pristine vallein,
Like goblin, reared up ...
Strong nivyanka bloom in the omega
Nightshade, yarrow, crucifer ...
And the forest - like a peasant’s half nodding -
What colors are not on the trees!
Ah, Indian summer, Russian painting
With now a rare wedge of cranes! ..
Shines blue on the cobweb
A reminder of the ancient feather grass.
It smelled warm, like a woman’s affection,
The kalugnitsa bloomed in the swamp,
And the lark is reverent, cautious,
It completes its take-off business.
* * *
Indian summer, Indian summer,
The kindness of water and light,
The bird reaches for the zenith
Ringing overflights.
Indian summer, Indian summer,
Somewhere the cold got lost
Rush his time
Past our yard.
Indian summer, Indian summer,
Late color warmed up,
Spilled crimson
To the birch palace.
Indian summer, Indian summer
Will I forget this?
Red-faced forests
Run away to miracles ...
* * *
Above a thin branch of euonymus,
Over fading foliage
The Indian summer flashed for a moment
With its farewell beauty.
So a woman when she’s forty,
Or maybe forty-five,
Suddenly flare up, as if awake
Before autumn while away.
* * *
Summer set sail in the glow of mountain ash
A crane wedge is melting in a clear sky.
And in the mailbox at your gate
Dropped autumn yellow cards.
Fidget Wind - Good Postman
Sends and sends a maple telegram window.
Gossamers to the sun - a sure sign;
So somewhere near the Indian summer wanders.
Again, like in spring, every bush shines,
And as if you taste the air.
And gold threads fly in the wind
And yellow cards drop autumn.
* * *
Mature years calm fun
Nothing is taken from the senses.
In the autumn I’m doing housewarming -
I study to live at this boundary.
Indian summer basking in the warmth
Silver spider webs of thread.
The autumn sun at its zenith
But all the time tends to land.
Quiet. Every step in the line is audible.
Strange sadness before the snows.
The dome of heaven that hovered above us
Held on a thin hair.
* * *
A leaf of currant is rough and cloth.
Laughter and glass rings in the house
In it they shred, and ferment, and pepper,
And the cloves are put in the marinade.
The forest casts like a mocker
This noise on a steep slope
Where is the hazel burnt in the sun
Like the heat of a bonfire scorched.
Here the road goes down to the beam
Here and dried up old driftwood,
And the patchwork of autumn is a pity
Everything sweeping into this ravine.
And the fact that the universe is simpler
What does the cunning think different
What a grove is lowered into the water
What comes to an end all.
That it’s pointless to clap your eyes
When everything is burned before you
And autumn white soot
Web pulls out the window.
The passage from the garden in the fence is broken
And lost in the birch.
There is laughter and an economic hubbub in the house,
The same noise and laughter in the distance.
* * *
Indian summer has come -
Days of farewell warmth.
Warmed by the late sun
In a crack, the fly came to life.
The sun! What is more beautiful in the world
After a chilly day? ..
Cobweb lung yarn
Twisted around the bitch.
Tomorrow the rain pours fast
Cloudy sun screening.
Silver spider webs
There are two or three days left to live.
Pity autumn! Give us the light!
Protect from winter darkness!
Have pity on us, Indian summer:
These cobwebs are us.
* * *
There is a time of nature of special light,
The dim sun, the most tender heat.
It's called Indian summer,
And in the delights argues with the spring itself.
Already on the face carefully sits
Flying, light web ...
Belated birds sing so loudly!
How magnificent and menacingly the curtains burn!
Powerful showers have long died down
Everything is given to a quiet and dark cornfield ...
More and more often from the sight I’m happy
I'm less and less jealous.
O wisdom of the bountiful Indian summer,
I accept you with joy ... And yet,
My love, where are you, come on, where are you?
And the groves are silent, and the stars are stricter ...
You see - it’s time for starfall,
And, it seems, time is forever parted ...
... And I only now understand how to
To love, and to regret, and to forgive, and to say goodbye.
* * *
The clear sky is crystal
The weather is a little fresh
Nature is sad and sad
And joyful and good.
Walking the path warmed up
A smile of autumn heaven
And I like the Indian summer
Like women going to the forest!
This is not to say that the sun shines weakly,
But the meadow carpet has changed:
Already blooming autumn kulbaba,
And the yellow dandelion faded.
And it's useless to complain about it
Speaking of the autumn that came, -
The reckless summer will reward me
Kulbaba thrives until November!
Poems about Indian summer and love
The best poems about autumn, Indian summer
What do you, lover, dream about
This windy September?
Flying birds
Or, as usual, women?
And when you look around
From the window the landscape is familiar,
You see the leaf fall dance
Or a woman, as usual?
Don’t be afraid, I won’t beat.
Once a year this is a sign.
If you see women everywhere
Indian summer has come!
* * *
Short-lived Indian summer
And autumn requires its own.
While we are warmed with love
While you and I are alone
I'm not afraid of a trick winter ...
Like a charm, like a spell
Come on my friend, two half breaths
Connect in one breath.
Luxurious day, flute sounds
And the warm air is velvety
And let the foreboding of separation
Do not break off the last sheet.
* * *
A hill was gilded outside the window
In a bugle raindrops dressed.
With fruits, with hops, with young wine
Indian summer comes into its own.
The heat went over the mountain pass
And in the morning, we foresee the blizzards,
Frost spiked down
Oaks, chestnuts, blue spruce.
But frost sticking for the time being
Lie on the needles of silver-blue.
A little sun peeks out from behind a mountain
Frost will light up with a diamond of drops.
Over the scales of old tiles
By the warmth of the rays and not warmed at noon,
Flocks of migratory birds are scattered
Scraps of songs not finished in the summer.
May ice crunch under your feet in the morning
And the blood is suddenly cold
We are the age of autumn chill
We extinguish the hot juice of the grapes.
Rustling steps. Campfire smoke
Over the valley squeezed by the highlands
And in the irreversibility of the summer time
Flies, yearning, with a crane song.
Stand over the fire and guide her
Not overshadowed by the reproach of parting.
Yellow autumn has its own
Heart-bewitching charm.
* * *
So she came, golden-eyed, fashionista autumn ...
Sleeping under the weight of apples in the rain a drowning garden
At the autumn ball gossip-wind carries secrets
About the last love, invisible in the Pleiades cluster,
That came down from heaven knocking on a frame of a rowan bunch,
Offering gold coins for birch billets ...
And go, don't let the unexpected, late guest enter the house
And don’t believe it - it’s still seriously disturbing.
And it seemed that a smile warmed recently
Tango of a bright day in the reflection of sparkling eyes.
Carefree, young summer was spreading in the parks
Not letting go, even for an hour
So she came intoxicatingly spicy autumn.
On a bench by the river, we sit with her, hugging in silence ...
With a playful ray on the temples, let the gray hair shade over ...
I ask, from me, Indian summer, do not rush to leave ...
Take your time to leave, my wondrous fall, no need.
Take a walk with me on the carpet of sad alleys
My indian summer, you are mine and sorrow and joy
On the verge of rains, warm days do not regret for me.
* * *
Round lake. Mirror surface.
Willows along the coast - pain seal -
Flexible branches dunk into the water,
The languid sky in the cradle is swinging.
Spreading maple spread over the paint.
He is unrequitedly in love with mountain ash ...
Wormwood wormwood smell and mint.
The grasses have dried up, they are taken to the tyne.
In a sweet conversation, birches are noisy.
The wind takes off their yellow outfit.
Slowly I kick the path ...
I remove the web thread from the eyelids.
A wedge grunts sadly in the sky
song farewell to Russian epics.
Quietly ripples autumn ripples -
Indian summer time is golden!
* * *
What could be more beautiful and more beautiful
Friendly smile of September:
The blue rings in the heavenly bowl
Soars. And dales, with gold of sorrow,
Stretch spider webs
Trying to hold a wonderful moment ...
Oh, Indian summer, bright commemoration.
The last breath and enlightened face.
Still glides, caressing, ray and undead.
And the sun strips after a while.
Just a little bit, and let them rattle there,
And the groans of the wind, the flashes of rain.
Just a little bit, a little - enjoy
Transparency and voiced silence.
Give hope to migratory birds
And go with nature to another world.
* * *
Cranes quietly moan somewhere,
Fluff dropping on coastal bushes ..
In a bright dress in the field came Indian summer,
Indian summer of departing beauty.
Because the mountain ash flared like a flame
Whispered with a bored longing.
Indian summer cries in light rains
Summer wants to be a girl's spring.
* * *
The clear sky is crystal
The weather is a little fresh
Nature is sad and sad
And joyful and good.
Walking the path warmed up
A smile of autumn heaven
And I like the Indian summer
Like women going to the forest!
This is not to say that the sun shines weakly,
But the meadow carpet has changed:
Already blooming autumn kulbaba,
And the yellow dandelion faded.
And it's useless to complain about it
Speaking of the autumn that came, -
The reckless summer will reward me
Kulbaba thrives until November!
* * *
So, everything - do not wait for warming.
The sky was filled with gray frown
Rain pounding the window -
Monotonous, harsh, sad.
And even though I know: still to come
A splash of short Indian summer
Anyway - don’t wait for warmings,
Realize that their song is complete.
The cold puts pressure on the clothes
Heaven seeks to mourn the loss ...
Indian summer, a sad lie
I love you, but I don’t believe.
You mask the decay with heat
So helpless, so guilty
Only through an illusory return
Only the impossibility of decay is more visible.
What to do with flying foliage?
Indian summer, holy naivety,
After all, it betrays you with your head
Late tenderness sadness and anguish.
O my friend, identify, catch:
In nature, a familiar meta.
Is it in our autumn love
No something from Indian summer?
O my friend, realize, follow
This difficulty of cold dawns -
And don't wait for warming, don't wait
Indian summer is just the appearance of summer ...
* * *
Indian summer rules us again
Good and clean sunrises
Gossamers glow in the night -
It is Indian summer.
Speak with me. Do not be silent!
The Indian summer rules us again
All covered with crimson leaves,
And again the harmonica sings somewhere
I hear songs of an old motive.
In the park, decorated maples,
Glowing bright foliage.
Only the old oak is still green
Yes, from caresses dizzy.
Indian summer youth returned!
We are excited and attracted to ourselves.
Like an old fairy tale woke up
The rustle of leaves speaks to us.
* * *
I will walk through the woods today
The easy gait of Indian summer
I’ll get a drink of spring water
Dead from azure light.
Catch the ray of the sun in the palm of my hand
I’ll sit and rest under the mountain ash.
Eh, now I would hear the accordion ...
Seeing the wedge into the distance.
Run down the path to the stream
I will admire the colors,
I love the forest ... I love
These groves, wildflowers.
The nose of the nightingale bully jerked up
Soon he will fly away before April,
All foliage from the branches will fly around
Indian summer - a week left.
I would listen to his song,
What will spill a magical flute.
Arrive, I'll wait anyway ...
Together with the first spring drop.
* * *
Round lake. Mirror surface.
Willows along the coast - pain seal -
Flexible branches dunk into the water,
languid sky in a cradle swing.
Spreading maple spread over the paint.
He is unrequitedly in love with mountain ash ...
Wormwood wormwood smell and mint.
The grasses have dried up, they are taken to the tyne.
In a sweet conversation, birches are noisy.
The wind takes off their yellow outfit.
Slowly I kick the path ...
I remove the web thread from the eyelids.
A wedge grunts sadly in the sky
song farewell to Russian epics.
Quietly ripples autumn ripples -
Indian summer time is golden!
* * *
The bells rang in the meadows
Hooked in the fields of cornflowers
And fog whitish rings
They plunged in the morning by the river.
We have not circled snowstorms,
Evil winds haven't gotten a face
Only the birds have already flown away -
Restless children of the Earth.
This is just the beginning of farewell
This is the autumn gray dawn -
Indian summer, it's time to bloom
Swan song of September.
Beautiful poems about Indian summer and woman
There is a time of nature of special light,
soft sun, the most tender heat.
It's called Indian summer.
and in delights argues with the spring itself.
Already on the face carefully sits
flying, light web ...
Belated birds sing so loudly!
How magnificent and menacingly the curtains burn!
Powerful showers have long died down
everything is given to a quiet and dark cornfield ...
More and more often from the sight I’m happy
less and less jealous.
O wisdom of the bountiful Indian summer,
with joy I accept you ... And yet,
my love, where are you, come on, where are you?
And the groves are silent, and the stars are stricter ...
You see - it’s time for starfall,
and, it seems, time is forever parted ...
... And I only now understand how to
love and regret and forgive and say goodbye.
* * *
In September, the trails are densely
variegated leaves lay down.
September is popularly sad
They called it the Indian summer.
Well, just this:
only the cars will shut up,
before dawn over the river
the laughter of girls does not cease!
You see, they live fun -
dresses are stroking, curls are twisted,
in the cleared meadow
the shoes are floating.
And they’ll sing a song
the willow will bend to the stream
the old birch will tremble:
remember his youth.
The moon will come out to heaven
but she does not know:
whether it’s Indian summer
or girl’s spring ...
* * *
In Russian forests in September
A wave of leaf fall swept.
How much sadness in the autumn
And what a joy for the eyes!
Withering, but warm to the heart -
From crimson foliage, probably.
What can you do, time has passed
Young ... But it’s nice to remember.
Like a woman’s short eyelid,
Change is tragic in nature
But - with dignity female - longing
She will not show with the people.
Yes, a lot of sad signs
And as if I forgot about it ...
The more expensive farewell hello
Outgoing Indian summer.
* * *
Autumn is changeable:
It has its own term for everything.
Indian summer women -
Like a happy rock.
Puddles
Yellow foliage.
The trails are all well-groomed, -
Maybe to rest? ..
But the soul is like a wanderer
Calling back on the road:
Rejoice, toil
And fly in flight.
The echo of goodbye -
Crane wedge.
In a world of wilting -
Flashes of mountain ash.
If you get tired
Or you live in grief
Leaf fall swirls
Grabbing you.
Spider Web Light -
From the past thread ...
Feelings are selfless -
Believe and love ...
Autumn is changeable:
It has its own term for everything.
Indian summer women -
How happy rock ...
* * *
So she came, the golden-haired fashionista autumn ...
Sleeping under the weight of apples in the rain a drowning garden
Gossip at the autumn ball - the wind carries secrets
About the last love, invisible in the Pleiades cluster,
That came down from heaven, knocking on a frame a rowan bunch,
Offering gold coins for birch billets ...
And go, don't let the unexpected, late guest enter the house
And don’t believe it - it’s still seriously disturbing.
And it seemed that a smile warmed recently
Tango of a bright day in the reflection of sparkling eyes.
Carefree, young summer was spreading in the parks
Not letting go, even for an hour
So she came intoxicatingly spicy autumn.
On a bench by the river, we sit with her, hugging in silence ...
With a playful ray on the temples, let the gray hair shade over ...
I ask, from me, Indian summer, do not rush to leave ...
Take your time to leave, my wondrous fall, no need.
Take a walk with me on the carpet of sad alleys
My indian summer, you are mine and sorrow and joy
On the threshold of rains of warm days, do not regret for me.
* * *
A golden-winged autumn with fallen leaves whispers.
I walk along the road between thin transparent aspens.
Why does the soul (or what?) Hope for something,
Having covered the nudity of worldly gray hair with leaf fall?
Indian summer, wait a minute! Do not run away unrequitedly, meekly.
You and I still have something to talk about and be silent.
My feminine maturity with your real experience
Useful when I can not calm hopelessness.
I have yet to climb a winding path.
Stumble and fall into the cold of granite stones.
But I ask fate - no gift, no good, no mercy ...
Don’t get embittered in the wind of elusive days.
* * *
The sun was splashing at dawn
Red-red spilled into the fields
And a crimson thread of gems
Dawn scattered through the forests.
Indian summer is golden time
Alarms the heart, burns.
I have no peace at this time
And the soul is crying, it is singing.
Indian summer, Indian summer over Russia -
Golden, but not for long.
In the blue sky a light flock of cranes
Indian summer flies away from the yard.
Monograms of Russian sundresses
Roundabout beckons a carousel,
In light brown braids curls with a scarlet ribbon
Mischievous dance gimp.
By moonlight the river is silvering,
In the milk of the shore fog.
Girls can't sleep in Indian summer,
Songs quietly flow until the morning.
Behind the woods you hear the cry of a wretch
Fragrant herbs spread dope,
And the villain torments my soul -
The heart breaks a crazy song of gypsies.
* * *
Indian summer scattered leaves.
Indian summer was inspired by sadness.
Indian summer ruffled thoughts
Spun completely, well, let it be.
Well, let the suffering sing again
Well, let it drizzle suddenly.
Again the wind brought me desires
Under the yellowing sail of the grove.
Indian summer gave hope
Promised bliss and paradise.
You are young again as before
And in my soul affectionate May.
Indian Summer - Silver Hair
A passing beautiful time
And love, a deafening voice
Our autumn, bright gifts.
* * *
Indian summer has set off
Passion flame of sunset.
Torn maple leaf
In the autumn waltz - irrevocably.
And viburnum smell drunk
Entangled in a web.
In the morning frost on the grass
Drops with a crunch - blue.
On a country road
The wind-janitor drives the leaves.
I drive bitterness from my heart
And melting in the eyes of sadness ...
Too bad the summer is leaving
In embellished distance.
* * *
Noisy, the Indian summer died out
A gossamer scattered leaves somewhere.
And today, a flock of cranes shot up,
And they scream hysterically, fly away.
Blue evening walked over the river,
How many times they quarreled with you for no reason.
Running away to another girl every now and then
And melting a tear in your eyes, you endured.
And today the evil clouds drive the wind,
You have now gone to another - he is better.
So why bother him by the rowan
You are sad at the sight of a flock of cranes.
Vera know that you still love me
At least once and kiss the other.
You will come to me again before dawn
We will see off the Indian summer with you.
* * *
Quietly, the cranes are kicking somewhere,
Drop down on the coastal bushes
Indian summer came out in a bright dress in the field -
Indian summer of departing beauty.
Maple leaves showered on the path
Silence wanders over the earth.
Oh, what are you thinking about, Alena,
By the cold autumn window?
All the more anxious smile on your lips
Your pensive look is sadder.
For so many years, the gate has not opened,
For so many years the soldier has not returned.
Because the mountain ash flared like a flame
Whispered with a sullen longing.
Indian summer cries in light rains, -
Summer wants to be a girl's spring.
* * *
The blue evening sank again
The wind is crying and knocking on the window
And in the soul, as if in the desert,
Empty, lonely and dark.
It’s evident that the Indian summer has become noisy,
The nightingale whistled in the garden
You left me unanswered
I won’t come to you today.
Sweet wind, don’t cry, don’t
I would only survive the winter
I will pass without looking down
And I will never be sad.
It’s evident that the Indian summer has become noisy,
The nightingale whistled in the garden
You left me unanswered
I won’t come to you today.
I’m not waiting for an answer,
Stupid wind, I will not be lost
It’s a pity that the Indian summer has become noisy
The nightingale whistled in the garden.
It’s evident that the Indian summer has become noisy,
The nightingale whistled in the garden
You left me unanswered
I won’t come to you today.
Interesting poems, Indian summer has come
Soaking in the sun is so sweet.
And the summer, as if not ending.
All just a hoax? What a pity!
Teasing me all day, furtively
Autumn is laughing. This summer
It is called womanish. "All the worries
Leave, ”as if someone were whispering.
Carelessly following the advice.
I try to notice everything.
Soak up. Remember. And maybe
Learn your love, that too
Lives in a short Indian summer.
* * *
Reckless Ginger Leaf Fall
Lavishly litter autumn coins.
And here in Siberia they say:
“It's Indian summer's coming” ...
Like a silkworm artist himself
Stuck out days from spider webs.
Gossamers soar in the air
And the patterns on the blades of grass are knitted.
Cranes flicker in the clouds
Light sadness filling the evening
Indian summer willow sunset
Hugs a woman by the shoulders.
* * *
Autumn day strides uphill
At the river, the whispers of old willows
A birch is napping at the fence
Sadly bending branches.
September frolics on a walk
With foliage turning yellow beckoning
And Indian summer in the alley
Warmly greets me.
In the gardens, everything is on time:
Canned tomato
Open window jam
Delivers a sweet aroma.
It's a good day, no wind yet
And all the mists are ahead
And about a hundred kilometers
It's already raining.
I don’t really believe in signs,
When in a fit of courage
Indian summer dances his waltz
Foliage on the street circle.
* * *
So again, our Indian summer.
Surprised by a miracle babble.
Indian summer, Indian summer, Indian summer -
The sun, cobwebs, warmth.
Again dew on meadow expanses.
Once again, an accordion leads.
Again birches in colorful patterns
And fireweed with the tops blooms.
So again, our Indian summer.
Surprised by a miracle babble.
Indian summer, Indian summer, Indian summer -
The sun, cobwebs, warmth.
Again heard guitars brute force.
Once again, bonfires and sparks to heaven.
Again poems, love and persuasion
And the discovery of the mystery of miracles.
So again, our Indian summer.
Surprised by a miracle babble.
Indian summer, Indian summer, Indian summer -
The sun, cobwebs, warmth.
Once again, the lunar path attracts us.
Again we meet the red dawn.
The distant gatehouse came to life again.
I will present flowers to my beloved.
So again, our Indian summer.
Surprised by a miracle babble.
Indian summer, Indian summer, Indian summer -
The sun, cobwebs, warmth.
Indian summer, Indian summer, Indian summer -
The sun, cobwebs, warmth.
* * *
Soaking in the sun is so sweet.
And the summer, as if not ending.
All just a hoax? What a pity!
Teasing me all day, furtively
Autumn is laughing. This summer
It is called womanish. "All the worries
Leave, ”as if someone were whispering.
Carelessly following advice
I try to notice everything.
Soak up. Remember. And maybe
Learn your love, that too
Lives in a short Indian summer.
* * *
Indian summer has come, having spreaded the web,
Let it not be paradise, but very close to paradise.
I go and hum the Jodassen motive
And the mushrooms, which the breakthrough, I collect.
Indian summer - a wonderful stroke on the autumn canvas,
Sun ray on frozen palms.
I walk and my delight does not fit in me
And mushrooms do not fit in a basket.
I walk in the autumn forest, in a web to the eyebrows,
Muddled without noticing
That I am the look of my beloved woman, my only
In every look of the Indian summer I meet.
* * *
In October, the charm of summer returned
This is repeated: “It cannot be!”
The sun has gained strength again somewhere
Heads in the summer, we are firing.
Women take off their clothes again
And spring blooms in their eyes
But souls will not come true hopes
On the trees - yellow foliage.
Indian summer is just too late
The summer in September got lost
A whole month somewhere snoozing,
And it came in rainy October.
* * *
Burning like a cigarette
On the foliage, the sunset froze.
Two Indian Summer Tickets
I bought it in the fall.
What for? - And I don’t know,
Because it is not a question:
I'll be late with you
To the last engine
And then a tired look
Circling the empty station
I'll stand by your side
And I’ll say: “I knew it!”
* * *
Still green hills.
A little more warmth and light.
And the white frost of winter
Go away, burning, Indian summer.
Burning bridges into the past.
All the riot of colors collapsed in an instant.
Bonfires burn in the fall
In a gray veil of fine lace.
Where is the day, burning
For a moment from the dark
The sunset suddenly captivates the soul ...
* * *
Autumn, but not cold at all,
The sun illuminated the earth with light
Indian summer began its journey
The path of the last parting with the summer.
In the threads of the web of heaven
The leaves on the trees are golden
Wondrous last beauty
For the soul and heart, holy days.
Siver hasn’t blew yet,
And the bold dragonflies swirl
It became like a mirror, a river
The clouds in it are framed by vines.
The skies are blue
Joy is felt in nature
And around there is a mute silence,
But not be long in such weather.
Waves of water rise
A strong wind will bring bad weather
Indian summer is always short
It goes away like Indian happiness.
* * *
Give Indian summer for autumn
And yesterday there was a warm blue
A serene sky in the distance.
Give, Indian summer, for autumn
Spider web of transparent love.
Give this moment of surprise
Where in the nature of the soul is grace.
Sanctify our faith of patience
And naivety is the best dream.
Fates and people are returning
And trains go to the platform.
The return will ever be -
It will not go away forever.
Let them return for a moment, for a moment
And love and fine days ..
Let the Indian summer wake up
Where will all your sorrows go ...
* * *
Indian summer short days
They are endless to me.
I eagerly inhale its aromas.
And I admire the outfit of nature.
Don’t go away, Indian summer, wait a minute,
Let me enjoy your beauty.
Juicy blush and sparkle in the eyes,
Berry smack on the lips ...
Your unique smile
The rustling of leaves among the yellow alleys.
Let me sit with you, dear, next
And hold with a worried look.
And in the sky a watercolor spread
It’s a pity, does not caress the titted trill.
Maples in a fiery red cape
The rowan brushes have already blown.
I'll take the rest with me in winter
Indian summer's moments are so sweet.
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