{"id":135210,"date":"2026-02-03T03:30:22","date_gmt":"2026-02-03T01:30:22","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/aleksawn.bget.ru\/drugie\/ctihi-pro-babe-leto.html"},"modified":"2026-08-24T13:20:47","modified_gmt":"2026-08-24T10:20:47","slug":"ctihi-pro-babe-leto","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/imgist.ru\/en\/ctihi-pro-babe-leto\/","title":{"rendered":"Poems about Indian summer: autumn lyrics about the sadness and beauty of nature"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Indian summer is a magical time of year when autumn bestows a second youth upon nature and the sun&#039;s warmth warms the chilled air. These short days of golden leaves and cobwebs between the trees reveal a special beauty that inspires poets to create works full of nostalgia and charm. This collection of poems is dedicated to this fragile yet unforgettable time of year.<\/p>\n<div class=\"poems\">\n<div class=\"poem\" data-poem=\"1\">\n<h2>Golden days<\/h2>\n<pre class=\"poem-text\">\nIn September, when, despite the cold, a ray of sun breaks through in the morning, and warmth fills the village, where strawberries bloom by the pond. Spider webs glitter in the rays of light, the ground spreads with golden leaves. It&#039;s a miracle, a magical Indian summer, the last time of autumn.\n    <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<div class=\"poem\" data-poem=\"2\">\n<h2>The last flowers<\/h2>\n<pre class=\"poem-text\">\nFlowers still bloom in the meadow, Chrysanthemums with amber faces, Dreams come true in autumn, Gifted to us by nature. A bee flies to the last petals, Hurrying to absorb the honeyed nectar, And it seems that life&#039;s joyful farewell drink flows upward, not downward.\n    <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<div class=\"poem\" data-poem=\"3\">\n<h2>A Quiet Miracle<\/h2>\n<pre class=\"poem-text\">\nWhen the summer&#039;s troubles fade, and the wind blows with tenderness in the soul, a magical misfortune comes to the land\u2014Indian summer shines ever more quietly. Pearls of dew hang on the trees, webs weave a tale of love, and it seems that there is no sadness in the world, when I look at autumn again and again.\n    <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<div class=\"poem\" data-poem=\"4\">\n<h2>Leaf fall gold<\/h2>\n<pre class=\"poem-text\">\nLeaves fall like golden rain, On the grass that is still green, And in the soul of every poet a birth, Of ideas yet unwritten flows. September gives us a second dawn, Where warmth and cold dance together, You will call the light Indian summer, Which, like children, gives us all a miracle.\n    <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<div class=\"poem\" data-poem=\"5\">\n<h2>Webs of happiness<\/h2>\n<pre class=\"poem-text\">\nThe finest webs fly, Glowing in the sun like silver, They catch the last days, The magical days of autumn. Indian summer gives us courage, To hurry along the unknown path, Forgetting the summer&#039;s sorrows and blessings, To taste the autumn miracle.\n    <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<div class=\"poem\" data-poem=\"6\">\n<h2>Warm sadness<\/h2>\n<pre class=\"poem-text\">\nA warm wind blows at this hour, I recall the sun of summer days, But even here, in this autumnal time, I feel joy and light. Indian summer brings me joy, I recall first meetings, the first step of trouble, But I instantly forget all the misery, Sweetly contemplating the landscapes.\n    <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<div class=\"poem\" data-poem=\"7\">\n<h2>Golden Sorrow<\/h2>\n<pre class=\"poem-text\">\nIn the garden, the last singers sing, Wizards in pen and voice, And holy sages look up to the sky on this day and at this hour. Indian summer shines upon me from misfortune, There are magical moments in the world, When fate bestows upon us all its privileges, And joy shines in every instrument.\n    <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<div class=\"poem\" data-poem=\"8\">\n<h2>The last day of warmth<\/h2>\n<pre class=\"poem-text\">\nShe enveloped me in the warmth of the earth, the Sorceress with a bright amber face, Indian summer\u2014a miracle of antiquity, which gives us the September peace in a hurry. Trouble flies on the wings of swallows, But the moment is bright, magical and more magical, Indian summer gives me trouble, And joy shines in every word, in every deed.\n    <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<div class=\"poem\" data-poem=\"9\">\n<h2>Autumn Dream<\/h2>\n<pre class=\"poem-text\">\nWhen all of nature falls asleep, When the triumph of summer is gone, The wizard of Indian summer sings to me, O miracle, O magical feather. And so a fairy tale comes to my home, The magical dream of a magical autumn, And I hear in that magical wave, Love, misfortune, the magical law for me.\n    <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<div class=\"poem\" data-poem=\"10\">\n<h2>Golden light<\/h2>\n<pre class=\"poem-text\">\nWhen the Indian summer&#039;s magic shines, enveloping the earth in gold, I believe in miracles, I believe in the summer wind, which pours magic into my heart. There are many magical days in the world, But I believe in autumn more than anything, Indian summer gives me opal, And joy shines in each one to save me.\n    <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<div class=\"poem\" data-poem=\"11\">\n<h2>A magical moment<\/h2>\n<pre class=\"poem-text\">\nMagical moment, magical moment, hurry, Indian summer sings a miracle to me, There are magical paths in the world, Where the wizard autumn calls me. And now the triumph of summer is gone, And now autumn comes to my home, Indian summer gives me trouble, And joy shines with me in every moment.\n    <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<div class=\"poem\" data-poem=\"12\">\n<h2>The last ray<\/h2>\n<pre class=\"poem-text\">\nThe last ray of magical light fell on a leaf next to me. Indian summer gives me trouble, and joy shines with me every day. The magical moment of autumn comes, when suddenly a rush warms in the soul, and every day, and every tongue sings to me of a miracle\u2014autumn and trouble.\n    <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Indian summer is a magical time of year when autumn bestows a second youth upon nature and the sun&#039;s warmth warms the chilled air. During these short days of golden leaves\u2026<\/p>","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[59],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-135210","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-stihi"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/imgist.ru\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/135210","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/imgist.ru\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/imgist.ru\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/imgist.ru\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/imgist.ru\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=135210"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/imgist.ru\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/135210\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":137377,"href":"https:\/\/imgist.ru\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/135210\/revisions\/137377"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/imgist.ru\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=135210"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/imgist.ru\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=135210"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/imgist.ru\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=135210"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}