pass

from the shores of, where Prosina
sweet, than water.
I'm twenty-third fall
He came here to meet.

I see the faces of the hosts
And the laughter of the wine,
But the cries of cranes
I can not hear outside.

ABOUT, joyful Mina,
I as well, just like you,
In love with my valley
As in the children's dreams.

But heavier glass of
I offer it to his lips,
Like a beggar in the gold bag,
With a tear in half.

1917

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Sergey Yesenin
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