Letter To Yesenin
While moon over Konsantinovo wanders,
and meadows sleep in the silence,
your spirit still breaths,
seeking new oases,
peasant valley couldn't offer you worldly aspirations!
Restless vagabond,
you yearned for vision life couldn't give,
and flew through new dimensions so fast, too high,
giving vent to winds, you became stretched
between the Earth and Heaven,
a waterfall that kissed ground too soon!
Alexandrovich Yesenin!
The stern October has deceived you,
so you searched your ideals in liquor,
and your soul in women, finally
easing and sharpening your pain in Isadora!
Oh, remember Sergey,
you are part of our collective dreams-
the very same meadows, blossoms of birches,
and innocence that scream for you now!
Didn't you know that world's call
couldn't give you peace?
It's stars are pale, artificial seducers
No warmth, just empty symbols with tart taste.
You were not their child,
your heart yearned again
for tender birch woods,
your soul remembered silenced meadows,
fireplace that always waited for you,
and old hands that prayed
you would come back!
And dear Sergey,
Why all that beauty didn't love itself?
Your piercing blue eyes,
light wavy hair and full, soft lips
went into my pain!
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