Autumn Evening in Serbia

All the thin shadows Have closed on the grass, With the drone on their dark wings The night beetles pass. Folded her eyelids, A maiden asleep, Day sees in her chamber The pallid moon peep.

From the bend of the briar The roses are torn, And the folds of the wood tops Are faded and worn. A strange bird is singing Sweet notes of the sun, Tho' song time is over And Autumn begun.