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Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev - Autumn Evening
Work rating: Medium

There is a wistful charm, a tenderness,
Mysterious and soft, in autumn`s even:
The trees in weird and brilliant garments dress,
The gory leaves to whispered talk are given;
Above the sad and orphaned earth the skies
Lie veiled and bleak, the sun`s departure mourning,
And gusty winds with sudden anger rise,
Of pending storms the grim and  chilly warning…
Fatigue, decline, and - over all - the worn
And wasting spirit`s smile, doomed soon to vanish,
That lights a sufferer`s face and that is born
Of modesty, the godlike pride of anguish.
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