Letter from mother

What have I
Now think of another,
What Now
I also write?
In front of me
On the table gloomy
lies an,
That sent me mother.

She writes to me:
"If thou canst,
then come, sweetheart,
To us at Christmas.
Buy me a shawl,
Father buy ports,
In our house
major weaknesses.

I do not like fear,
That you are a poet,
What have you made friends
Poor glory of C.
Much better if
From an early age
You went into the field for sohoyu.

I became old
And it is bad,
But if the house
Was you from the beginning,
Then I
Now in-law has been used
And on his feet
I rocked Vnuchonka.

But you children
Lighting lost,
his wife
It is easy to give to another,
And without family, without friendship,
without berth
You head
I went into the maelstrom Kabatsky.

My beloved son,
What's the matter?
You were so gentle,
He was so humble.
And they said, all vying:
What a happy
Alexander Yesenin!

In thee our hopes
have not been fulfilled,
And my heart
From the patient and bitter,
That his father
I thought was in vain,
That for poetry
You took the money more.

Though much you b
nor take,
You can not send them into the house,
And because it is bitter
speech pours,
I know I
On your experience:
So the money is not given.

I do not like fear,
That you are a poet,
What have you made friends
Poor glory of C.
Much better if
From an early age
You went into the field for sohoyu.

Now continuous sadness,
we live, how in the darkness.
We do not have a horse.
But if you were in the house,
It was used all,
And when your mind -
post President
The Volost Executive Committee.

Then b lived boldly,
No one would have not pulled,
And you would not know
unnecessary fatigue,
I'd forced
Spin
your wife,
And you, like a son,
Refreshed our old age ".
…………
I crumpled the letter,
I sink into the horror.
Can it be true there is no exit
In my cherished way?
but all, I think,
I then tell.
I will tell
In his reply ...

Author digitizing material