Sergey Esenin
Cigarette Vendors

Sad streets,
Piles of snow and frost.
Desperate rascals
With carts of cigarettes.
Wanderers of dirty streets,
Playthings of a wicked game,
They’re all pickpockets,
They’re all merry thieves.
Nikitskaya is the turf of that gang;
This one controls Tverskaya.
With maudlin whistling,
They stand around all day.
They sneak into every den
Then, catching a free moment,
They read Pinkerton
Out loud over a beer.
So what if the beer is bitter?
They would even get drunk without it.
They all dream of New York,
San Francisco beckons them all.
Then, grimly, they come out
Into the cold once more,
Desperate rascals
With carts of cigarettes.

Translated by Anton Yakovlev