Sergey Esenin
Letter to my mother

Ah, old lady, are you still alive?
I am, and I give you welcome.
May this unearthly evening light
Flood down on the old home.

They tell me you hide your alarm.
But that I soon made you despair.
You often go out on the road
In a dress old-fashioned and threadbare.

In the blue dusk mist you see me
Always the same, to the life,
As if in a pub brawl some man
Thrust in my heart a Finnish knife.

Calm yourself, old lady, it’s nothing,
An oppressive nightmare, no more.
I am not yet so confirmed a drunk
As to die without seeing you.

I’m still as tender as before,
Dream only of the time when I,
Forced by rebellious despair,
Shall come back to our little house.

I’ll come back when the garden spreads
Its branches wide in spring again.
I’ll beg you not to rouse
Me at dawn, as once you did.

Why rouse the spent dream?
What did not come about?
In life it’s been my lot to suffer
Loss too early and weariness.

And don’t teach me to pray. What need?
There is no going back to then.
You are my only help and comfort,
You are my one unearthly light.

And so, old girl, forget your fears.
And don’t be so quick to despair.
Be seen less often on the road
Tn a dress old-fashioned and threadbare.

Translated by Geoffrey Thurley