As the first signs of winter
Hover above the Neva's expanse,
We compare the scattered leaves
Along its banks to summer's radiance.
Hover above the Neva's expanse,
We compare the scattered leaves
Along its banks to summer's radiance.
But I admire these old poplars
Whose branches refuse to shed
Their dry and rusty armor
Till winter's first storms ahead.
Whose branches refuse to shed
Their dry and rusty armor
Till winter's first storms ahead.
How to describe our similarity?
Like the poplar I'm growing old,
And I too should meet, in my armor,
Winter's coming, its mortal cold.
Like the poplar I'm growing old,
And I too should meet, in my armor,
Winter's coming, its mortal cold.
1955