The foliage gold has begun to spin In pinkish water on a pond, As if{As} butterflies easy{light} flight With trembling flies on a star.
I today am enamoured in this evening, It is close to heart turning yellow valleys. The adolescent-wind on the shoulders Has started singing on a birch a hem.
Both in a shower{soul} and in a valley a cool, Dark blue twilight as herd of sheeps, Behind a door of the ceased garden The guitar will ring out and will stand.
I still am never economical So did not listen to a reasonable flesh, It is good, as branches a willow, To overturn in pinkishness of waters.
Well, on a stack smiling, Muzzle of month hay to chew... Where you, where, washing silent pleasure, All loving{liking}, nothing to wish?
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In pinkish water on a pond,
As if{As} butterflies easy{light} flight
With trembling flies on a star.
I today am enamoured in this evening,
It is close to heart turning yellow valleys.
The adolescent-wind on the shoulders
Has started singing on a birch a hem.
Both in a shower{soul} and in a valley a cool,
Dark blue twilight as herd of sheeps,
Behind a door of the ceased garden
The guitar will ring out and will stand.
I still am never economical
So did not listen to a reasonable flesh,
It is good, as branches a willow,
To overturn in pinkishness of waters.
Well, on a stack smiling,
Muzzle of month hay to chew...
Where you, where, washing silent pleasure,
All loving{liking}, nothing to wish?
Esenin S.
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