Sergey Alexandrovich Yesenin
Sergei Alexandrovich Yesenin ( 1895 – 1925) was a Russian lyrical poet. He was one of the most popular and well-known Russian poets of the 20th century.
In 1916, Yesenin published his first book of poems, Ritual for the Dead (Radunitsa, Russian: Радуница). Through his collections of poignant poetry about love and the simple life, he ... more »
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Sergey Alexandrovich Yesenin Poems
I'll no more go roaming, no more seeking...
I'll no more go roaming, no more seeking, No more crushing goosefoot in the wood. With those oatsheaf locks you tossed when speaking
Through fields of virgin snow I roam...(...
Through fields of virgin snow I roam, Fresh lilies bursting in my heart. The dusk to guide my footsteps home Has lit a bright blue candle-star.
So it happened and please don't swear......
So it happened and please don't swear. I'm a not a word dealer now. My poor head - it's too hard to bear And bent-down is my golden brow.
No sorrow, no calls, no tears...(transla...
No sorrow, no calls, no tears. Now it's gone, white foam from apple-tree. Faded, seized by tarnished golden flares, I will not feel youthful. Never me.
I've quit my father's home...(translated...
I've quit my father's home And left blue Russ. With three Bright stars the birch-tree grove Consoles my mother's grief.
What I have retained of my own...(transl...
Ìíå îñòàëàñü îäíà çàáàâà: Ïàëüöû â ðîò - è âåñ¸ëûé ñâèñò. Ïðîêàòèëàñü äóðíàÿ ñëàâà,
Waken me early tomorrow...(translated fr...
Waken me early tomorrow, Dear mother, patient and kind! I'll go past the boundary barrow To welcome a friend of mine.
Cleared the cornfield, bare the boughs a...
Cleared the cornfield, bare the boughs are, From still waters mist is rolling, Like a wheel beyond the mountains Has the silent sun gone rolling.
Comments about Sergey Alexandrovich Yesenin
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
I'll no more go roaming, no more seeking...(translated from russian)
I'll no more go roaming, no more seeking,
No more crushing goosefoot in the wood.
With those oatsheaf locks you tossed when speaking
You have vanished from my dreams for good.
With red berry juice on fair skin glowing,
Beautiful and gentle, you were like
Pink skies when the sun to rest is going
And, like new snow, you were sparkling bright.
Now the seed grain of your eyes has scattered, shrivelled,
Your rare name has melted like a sound,
Though the scent of blameless hands still lingers,
In the folds of a creased shawl is found.