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The Seasons

Оh, toils and trouble of the fate!
What should come next is unbeknown…
Unrecognized in dusky shade
Of thinning leafage, autumn roams:
The gardens aren’t yet stripped of leaves,
The flowers are not frost-bitten,
And so warm’s the arm I squeeze,
And sweet is nightingale’s-like twitter…
The mercury’s still hitting high —
But why my heart is sinking suddenly:
You say I’m twice your age?! — All right,
I’ll burn all registries, do pardon me!
… Ah, let this autumn draw upon
Like dust in air, filled with gossamers…
The life is singing me a song —
All things will pass, all things are possible!