Serhey Esenin -------------------------------------------------- * * * -------------------------------------------------- I don't cry, don't pity and not call, All will going like apple-tree' white smoke, I'm gilded as well autumn's nature all, I will never be with whole youngster's joke. -------------------------------------------------- My heart, you touched with light a cold, Would not beating with my young a pulse. And the country of a leafy birch's coat Never'd lure to gad by barefoot on grass. ------------------------------------------------- Spirit vagrant! You so rarely seldom Moves the flame of the mouth' chance. Oh, my freshness, you are me abandon, My violence eyes' and flood of sense. -------------------------------------------------- All we, all we will not be in this world ever, Maples drop their leaves' of copper calm. So, ought to be with bless for-ever What had come for flourishing and die... 1921 | 
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