Sergey Esenin
Don`t fall, my little star, keep shining...

Don't fall, my little star, keep shining,
Keep dropping chilly beams of light.
There is no living heart abiding
Up there beyond the grave-yard site.

And from you beam you bring us summer
And fill the fields with rye and hay
And with a thrilling wistful clamour
Of cranes that haven't flown away.

I raise my head and I can hear
Beyond the wood across the hill
A lovely song about the near
And dear homeland, such a thrill!

The autumn, turning gold, appears
To squeeze the juice from trees and plants;
It's shedding pensive leaves of tears
For the beloved and loving ones.

I know, I know, the time is near,
Through no one's fault, with no offence,
I, too, will rest in peace right here
Bneath the mournful little fence.

The tender flame will soon die out,
My heart will turn to dust, for worse,
My fiends will put a stone, no doubt.
With words of merriment, in verse.

But, feeling grief and seeing proper,
I'd put it in the following way:
He loved his homeland like a toper
Adors a bar and a buffet.

Translated by Alec Vagapov