Fyodor Tyutchev "Exists in the autumnal growing" Translated by Boris Leyvi
Exists in the autumnal growing A brief, but an enchanting phase: The day – as if in crystal glowing, The dusk – in the resplendent glaze.
Where ears fell to zesty sickle's rending, It's bare around; through a widespread range Glows only, thinning and unbending, A web string on an idle trench.
The air's depleting, quiet – birds have pealed, Of nascent wintry storms there isn't a clue, And pours the warm and the transparent blue Onto a resting field...