Sergey Esenin
A blue May. An eventide warmth...

A blue May. An eventide warmth.
The ring at the gate makes no sound.
Sticky smell wafts from the sagebrush.
The cherry tree sleeps in a white gown.

Through the wooden wings of the window,
The whimsical moon is weaving
The lace patterns of the fine curtains
And the window frames onto the floor.

Our living room might be small,
But it’s clean. I’m here at my leisure...
This night I’m enjoying my life
Like a pleasant thought of a friend.

The garden blazes like a frothy fire,
And the moon, straining all its powers,
Would like everyone to tremble
From the piercing word “darling.”

In this blossoming, in this smoothness,
Hearing the merry harmonica of May,
I’m the only one who wishes for nothing,
Who accepts everything as is.

I accept it — come and appear,
Everything that brings pain and relief...
Peace be with you, life that has rumbled by.
Peace be with you, light-blue chill. 

Translated by Anton Yakovlev