Sergey Esenin
Country, o my country!..

Country, o my country!
Autumnal rainy tin.
The shivering streetlight reflects
Its lipless head in a black puddle.

No, it’s best not to look,
Or else I’ll see something worse.
I’ll just keep squinting my eyes
At all this rusted haze.

It’s warmer this way and less painful.
Look: between the skeletons of houses
A bell tower, like a miller, carries
The copper bagfuls of bells.

If you’re hungry, you will be nourished.
If you’re miserable, you’ll find joy.
Just don’t look at me too openly,
My unknown earthly brother.

As I thought, so I did. But alas!
It’s the same every time!
Looks like my body is too used to
Feeling this shivering cold.

Well, so what! There are many others,
I’m not the only one alive in the world!
As for the street light, one moment it blinks,
The next moment it laughs with its lipless head.

Only my heart, under shabby clothes,
Whispers to me, who has visited solid ground:
“My friend, my friend, the eyes that have seen
Can only be shut by death.” 

Translated by Anton Yakovlev