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!