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black, then reeking howl!
As I'm not caress, not to love?

Out on the lake in blue causeway,
By the time the heart clings grace.

Gray spindles are tents,
Dull lull squishing reeds.

Red fire okrovil Tugun,
The firewood stack white eyelids the moon.

Quiet, squatting, stained dawn
Listen to the tale of the old man mowers.

Somewhere in the distance, Hooked rivers,
Dremnuyu song sung fishermen.

Tin lights Luzhny beggars ...
Sad song, you - Russian pain.

1914

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All poems of Sergey Yesenin

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