mypaintings2014

 

The days of late autumn usually scold,

But to me she is sweet, dear reader,

Flaunts a gentle, sparkling humbly.

So unloved child in the family home

It currently involves me. To tell you frankly,

From the time I was glad annual it alone,

In her much good; lover not conceited,

I found something in her dream wayward.

AS Pushkin