Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 10/8/2019
* * * (A sad September is heading over the tops...)
A sad September is heading over the tops,
through the barren peaks suddenly turned gray.
In his heart hidden luggage of memories he carries,
and only crickets' farewell sails
quietly rustle with wind filled,
rocking to sleep dreams* unfulfilled.
Wieslaw Musialowski 10/27/2002
*moments in the original
Autumnal Hour (Shorter)
Look! - from smoke I plait this poem short:
for fogs over an autumn meadow
with heathers strewn and drowsy,
for stubbles, fields and forests - in honor - of bards!
I? - I know they're hardly rustling
the strophes of simple words... And you? - you weave sorrows!
Wieslaw Musialowski 6/19/2002
Oct 8, 2019
Oct 8, 2019 at 10:48 AM UTC
Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 10/8/2019
* * * (A sad September is heading over the tops...)
A sad September is heading over the tops,
through the barren peaks suddenly turned gray.
In his heart hidden luggage of memories he carries,
and only crickets' farewell sails
quietly rustle with wind filled,
rocking to sleep dreams* unfulfilled.
Wieslaw Musialowski 10/27/2002
*moments in the original
Autumnal Hour (Shorter)
Look! - from smoke I plait this poem short:
for fogs over an autumn meadow
with heathers strewn and drowsy,
for stubbles, fields and forests - in honor - of bards!
I? - I know they're hardly rustling
the strophes of simple words... And you? - you weave sorrows!
Wieslaw Musialowski 6/19/2002