Autumn morning - Pushkin

uproar; flute field
I announced my solitude,
And with the image of a mistress dredge
Last flied dreams.
From heaven already slipped night shadow
Vzoshla fireworks, shines pale day -
And me round the dull desolation ...
I do not have it ... I was off the coast of,
Where lovely went clear in the evening;
On the shore, on green meadows
I have found little visible traces,
Left foot of her beautiful;
Thoughtfully wandering in the wilderness forests,
I uttered the name of incomparable;
I called her - and a solitary voice
Empty valleys called her in the distance.
By the creek came, attracted by dreams;
Its jet flowed slowly,
I do not tremble in them the image of the unforgettable. —
I do not have it!.. Until sweet spring
I'm just a bliss and soul. —
Oh autumn cold hand
Heads of birch and linden trees are bare,
It is noisy in oak deserted;
There's night and day turned yellow leaf,