«The red evening is settling along the road / And rowan trees are sinking in mists and shade. / An ancient isba’s doorway opens wide / Like jaws that chew the pungent quiet inside. The loyal autumn chill lovingly stole / From farmyard through the haze to the fields of oats. / And through...»
«The rowan trees grew red, / The water turned bright blue. / The sullen moon’s horse rode / With its reins falling loose. From the gloom a blue swan, / Out of the grove, swims. / With miraculous force he’s borne / Up on his great wings. This is your land, and mine, / Ageless plowm...»
«I cried and cavorted in the spring rain, / But the storm stopped. / You get dull to me, Sergei Esenin, / Lift your eyes up... Beneath sky and trees it’s dull to hear / Your wings’ blind waves: / They can’t unf...»
«It’s nice in the briskness of early autumn / To shake one’s soul like an apple bough / And to watch the sun cut the blue stream / Like the fresh turned furrow of a plow. It’s nice to drive out from one’s body / The white hot song like a new forged nail / As one waits for the gusti...»