Confessions of a thug Yesenin
All men can not sing
And not everyone is given an apple to fall
how, toward the feet of others.
This is the biggest bully ever confession
What can confide.
should I wear my disheveled head,
oil lamp over my shoulder.
I like to lighten the darkness
The bare autumn of your souls;
It pleases me that I fly against
The stones of injury, belching
hail storm.
Only the strongest hold in your hands
The wavy hair of my bubble.
is beneficial then to remember the raucous
alder and erbeggiante pond,
And I live somewhere
Father and mother, not caring at all
of my poems, and they are expensive
As the field and the flesh, and What a fine rain that
spring wheat is soft green.
For every cry you I would be thrown with pitchforks
in Scanno.
Poor, poor, my countrymen!
Sure you're not beautiful now,
And fear God, and the bowels of the swamps.
stationmasters least
your child in Russia is among the greatest poets!
not froze my heart to you for him, barefoot in puddles
autumn?
Now he is turning in a top hat and carrying
patent leather shoes.
But he lives in the primitive impression of the Monell
countryside. Each cow
portrayed
Above the banner of butchery
Bows from afar.
and meeting place in the drivers
Remember the smell of manure on the fields,
First, as a bridal train,
to hold the horses' tails.
I love the country. I love my country!
Despite the sadness of his rusty willow.
I am pleasing to the pigs grunted soiled,
And in the silence of the night the voice of Argentina toads. Tender memories of childhood ill
dream the fog and damp of the evening of April.
How to warm up to the stake of dawn curled maple
hath been ours.
Ah, salendone branches
how many eggs I've stolen from nests for crows!
is always the same, with the green top?
is an important time as the bark?
And you, beloved, faithful dog
pied! Squeaky
and blind You got that year, and dragging
go to the court the tail hanging, snuff
Col oblivious of doors and stable. How grateful
returns that mischief: When
a crust of bread pilfered
To my mom, biting alternately disgusted
Without any one of the other.
have remained the same, with all my heart.
eyes face flower
Similar to cornflowers between rye.
Mats golden verses of unrolling,
I will talk to you dearly.
Good night! good night to you all! The dawn has already
sickle tinnitus
Among the grass in the twilight.
tonight I want to piss with rain
From my window over the moon!
Blue light, blue light as well! In both blue
also does not hurt to die.
And I do not care to look like a cynical
With the lantern attached to the butt!
My old, good and exhausted Pegasus
I need your own soft trot? I
, strict teacher, I have come to celebrate
mice and sing.
The August of my head which wine is poured
hair in a storm.
I want to be sailing towards the yellow
country where we go to sea
Yesenin's poem, becomes
"Confessions of a rogue" Angelo Branduardi
wonderful song ......
I want to dedicate to those who love poetry ...
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