Но наше северное лето, Карикатура южных зим, Мелькнет...

But our northern summer,
Caricature of southern winters
Flickering and not: this is known,
Although we do not want to admit.
Oh, the sky breathed in the autumn,
Less often the sun shone,
The day was shorter
Mysterious canopy of forests
With a sad noise was exposed,
I lay down on the fields of fog
Noisy caravan geese
Stretching towards the south: approaching
Pretty boring time;
It was November already at the yard.