Yes! Now it decided. No refund…

Yes! Now it decided. No refund
I left home field.
I do not winged leaves
Above me ringing poplar.

Low house without me hunched,
Old dog, my long-isdoh.
On the crooked streets of Moscow
Die, know, He judges me God.

I love this city elm,
Let it bloated and let odryah.
Gold drowsy Asia
Opoczno dome.

And when the moon shine at night,
When the light ... God knows how!
I'm going, head svesyas,
Lane in a familiar tavern.

A noise in the lair of the terrible,
But all night long, to Zara,
I read poems to prostitutes
And bandits fry alcohol.

The heart beats more and more,
And so I say inappropriately:
"I am the same, how are you, gone,
I now do not reach back ".

Low house without me hunched,
Old dog, my long time hanged.
On the crooked streets of Moscow
Die, know, He judges me God.

1922

Rate:
( 12 assessment, average 4.58 from 5 )
Share with your friends:
Sergey Yesenin
Add a comment