4 & 5
F. I. Tiutchev
Translated from the Russian by J. Kates
THERE IS, AT THE FIRST BEGINNING OF FALL
There is, at the first beginning of fall
a brief, but extraordinary time —
The whole day turns as it were to crystal,
and the evenings are sublime . . .
Where a lively sickle felled the grain,
Nothing but emptiness everywhere —
glimmering in an idle furrow
only a spiderweb's thin hair.
Air empties out, birds are heard no more,
but far off the first winter storms already —
and a clean and temperate azure
pours over the resting field . . .
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