Serghey    Esenin

                    
                  *    *    *



      I'll see in field, I'll see in sky-

      Elsewhere in its is paradise.

      And once again with stacks of rye

      My country stays no exercise.


      And once again in valleis green

      There're everlasting cows dreem.

      From mountains is running quick

      A water sweet of clear creek.


      And I believe - for their pangs

      Over of her abusing man

      She with a little tender hands

      Like with a milk overflows than.


      1917