* * *
Author: Sergei Yesenin
See red wings of sunset dying out,
Wattles slumber tranquilly in fog.
Don’t be sad, oh my hut, in the quiet
That again we’re alone and alone.
Moon is cleaning in thatched roof
Horns of hers set in frame of blue.
Didn’t follow her, made no move
To where haystacks remotely stood.
Know that years will dull the blow,
And this anguish like years will go.
And her lips and her innocent soul
She will spare for some other boy.
Far from strong is who asks for joy,
Only proud in strength keeps afloat.
And that other will crumple and toss,
Like horse collar that’s eaten with moist.
Not from sickness at heart await I fortune,
Storm will twirl fresh snow from sheer spite.
She’ll be back to where is her birthplace,
She’ll return to give its warmth to little one.
She will take off her coat, untie shawls,
Perch herself by my side, close to heat,
And she’ll say in her sweet, tender tones
That the child bears resemblance to me.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Mar 2011
About this poem:
Another translation from the Russian poet Sergei Yesenin
Comments (9)
CJ
Wattles tranquilly slumber in fog.
Don’t be sad, oh my hut, in the quiet
That again we’re alone and alone.
This is lovely, thank you for posting.
Christina
??