The fields are compressed, groves are bare ...

The fields are compressed, groves are bare,
From the water, fog and dampness.
The wheel behind the blue mountains
The sun has slipped quietly.

The asphyxiated road is dozing.
Today she is dreaming,
Which is very, very little
Waiting for winter to remain gray.

Ah, and I myself am more likely to call
I saw yesterday in a fog:
Red-haired month foal
Harnessed into our sleigh.

1917

Disclaimer: I just found these in my library. I do not have the rights to them,
I just them and decided to share them with you.