Sergei Yesenin - poet who made me cry

You don't love me and don't feel compassion

Don't you think that now I look my best?

Though you look aside you're thrilled with passion

As you put your arms upon my chest.

You are young, so sensitive and zealous,

I am neither bad nor very good to you.

Tell me, did you pet a lot of fellows?

You remember many arms and lips? You do?

They are gone and haven't touched you any,

Gone like shadows, leaving you aflame.

You have sat upon the laps of many,

You are sitting now on mine, without shame.

Though your eyes are closed, and you are rather

Thinking of some one you really trust,

After all, I do not love you either,

I am lost in thought about my dear past.

Don't you call this zeal predestination,

Hasty tie is thoughtless and no good,

Like I set up this unplanned connection,

I will smile when leaving you for good.

You will go the pathway of your own

Just to haveyour days unwisely spent,

Don't approach the ones not fully grown,

Don't entice the ones that never burnt.

When you walk with someone down the alley

Chatting merrily about love and all

Maybe, I'll be out, walking round shyly,

And again, by chance, I'll meet you, poor soul.

Squaring shoulders, ravishing and winning,

Bending slightly forward, with an air kiss,

You will utter quietly:Good evening!

And I will reply: Good evening, miss.

Nothing will disturb my heart and spirit,

Nothing will perturb me giving pain,

-He who's been in love will not retrieve it,

He who's burnt will not be lit again.

December 4th, 1925


This is my favorite poem from my most favorite poet. Once I've read it, it made me cry. And if I read it once again, I know I will, since I recognize the burden which had the poet and which made him die young. It is really enough just to read his poem and realize how he suffered, lived and loved. He sadly finished his life at the age of 30 hanging himself from the heating pipes on the ceiling of his room in the Hotel Anglettere. Tomorrow would be his 116th birthday...


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Comments 5 comments

Cresentmoon2007 profile image

Cresentmoon2007 5 years ago from Caledonia, MI

I must thank you for introducing me to this poet. I've never heard of him nor have I read something so touching. Voted up.


IndiePharm profile image

IndiePharm 5 years ago from Niš, Serbia Author

I'm glad that you liked the poem. Yesenin is an astonishing poet who had really tough life, and it is quite ironical, but pain that he suffered from made him write such beautiful poems. You maybe haven't heard of him because of the cold relations between West and East. He is a Russian poet, and since he lived in communist time, he was celebrated as their hero. But anyway, his poems have nothing in common with politics at all. :) When I was in high school, we've read his most well-known poem, which is also very beautiful. I'll give you the link. It is The poem about bitch:

http://www.health-forums.com/alt-support-schizophr...


Red'nRed 4 years ago

Dear IndiPharm,

I too like Yesenin and I too come from the same country as you, although I have not lived there for many years. Yesenin is notoriously difficult to translate into English.

Here is my own translation of one of the most famous of his poems, Letter to Mother:

Are you still alive, my dear old one?

I am still alive. My greetings to you!

May above your home that amazing light

Shine on and dispel the evening gloom.

I was told that they see you very often,

All fearful, and worried about me a lot,

Going to the road every now and then,

Clad in your old, shabby overcoat.

That, in the evening darkness, very often,

Your mind plays the same tragic part:

In a tavern fight, some ruffian has plunged

A Finish knife straight to my heart.

Fear not, dear. And don’t be dreary!

It is only fiction through and through.

I am not so a bad drunkard, really,

That I should die without seeing you.

I am still your tender son as ever,

And the only thing I dream of, when alone,

Is to leave this dismal world I live in,

And return to our humble low-roofed home.

I’ll return in spring and without a warning

When the garden blooms white as snow.

But, please don’t wake me early in the morning,

Like you used to do eight years ago.

Don’t disturb the dreams already dreamt

Don’t perturb my vain and futile strife,

For I have become tired much too early

From all that sorrow and weariness in life.

And don’t teach me how to say my prayers!

There is no way back to what is forever gone.

You alone are my only solitude now,

The remaining light that is still shining on.

Mother! My dearest! Forget your pain,

Do not fear and worry about me so.

A don’t go to the road every now and then

In that old, shabby overcoat of yours.


bozica 3 years ago

Here is my translation of one of his last poem to a poet Zena Rostov, his friend"

To Zena Rostov

(S.A. Esenin)

Do you recall our meetings, work and dreams,

Young was I then and you too were in your primes?

Love was luring us, life kept offering its charms,

In Autumn days passion was warming our hearts.

Tired we feel now, and need this time

More peaceful corner elsewhere to find.

Time has come our circle to bring to its end,

Isn’t that the truth whole, my dear, dear friend?


Antonia Koseva 2 years ago

He is my favourite poet! Although I don't know Russian I read him in original because my language is pretty close to Russian. You can only feel the beauty of his soul if you read him in Russian.. I recommend it to you

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