Осень [Osenʹ] [English translation]

Night spits black on the glass

Summer? Summer's gone - the hell with it!

Dreams of felt, the Northern country is sleeping under an unbleached coat

But where are you, Spring, and what are you ill with now?

Autumn, poisonous berries of your lips

Autumn, your lascivious corpse beside me

All my July and August songs are burnt by Autumn.

She is so jealous in the role of my wife[*].

Wet tobacco, cough

Sky like an enameled pot full of semolina[**]

And in the morning rusty pus drips from above right upon me

The Lord must've been frolicsome in spring, too

It's time to leave our nests

It's time to move to other stars

But leaves, while dreaming of flying away with birds, only fall down

Autumn is doing strip-tease in every yard

And our beer is turning into kvass; and what about you?

Sleepy ladies watch idly through the slits of their eyes

Now they don't need to attract us. While having a walk

I noticed ten unshaven ladies

Horses dream of a fast sledge, they're sick of carts

Fields dream of clean and simple bedsheets of snow

So who will heal our wounds, who'll bandage them, who'll put in the stitches?

I know: Winter in the role of my widow

[*]In Russian, the word "autumn" (осень, osen) is of feminine gender.

[**]In Russia semolina is often served in dining rooms and canteens, especially in kindergartens/schools and hospitals.

• Artist:Alexander Bashlachev