not ruhaytes. such a thing!..

not ruhaytes. such a thing!
Not a trader I word.
I fell back and became heavy
Gold my head.

No love nor to the village, nor there,
As I was able to bring her?
I throw all. Let go of his beard
And vagabond go across Russia.

Forget books and poems,
Flip amount shoulder,
Because that profligate fields
Wind longer sings, than anyone.

I stunk radish and onion
AND, disturbing the smooth surface of an evening,
I will loudly blow his nose in his hand
And in all playing the fool.

And I do not need the best of luck,
Just relax and listen to the blizzard,
Because without these eccentricities
I live on earth can not.

1922

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Sergey Yesenin
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