Poems of Sergei Yesenin

Isaac Levitan's song, I Remember, I Remember My Love, serves as an example. In the song, the light in your hair seems unsteady. Even though I have to leave you, saying goodbye is not simple or easy.

Let the moon shine for us for a longer period of time so that we can enjoy the autumn nights, the rustling of the birch tree shadows, and the shorter days. I still recall you softly remarking, "Honey, you have been my friend forever, but years will pass and you will forget everything.

Despite the fact that the buds have already dried up in the pot, the lime tree's blooming today serves as a reminder of that flavor and how patient it is to grow. Without being prepared to love another heart, the soul became frozen.

I still think of you despite this lovely tale. 1925 Bully The branches in the meadow are wet from the rain.

I'm your bully, and a gust of wind wills the leaves to scatter like rain and wind. like a lost ox, lives in the undergrowth.

His knees were covered in mud, and his stomach was stuffed with leaves and stems. Just watch and understand because dusk has licked human footprints to see who can sing better—my flock is brave.

I'm the only news anchor and singer, so please support the Russian nation. Pets should be given fresh grass after reading a poem about the cries of animals.

In the middle of a full moon, I had a dream that someone was robbing our garden and taking the milky birch sap. I also had a dream that I wanted to choke someone, but instead, they had their hands crucified in the churchyard. Pedal by yourself like a thief in the steppe stealing horses.

I want to be in a large field as the twilight fades away and sit somewhere quietly because who has ever seen rage in a haunted night boiling like cherry stew. Ah, the bush makes me wilt while I'm engrossed in the music's beat.

receiving a sentence of forced labor; working as a dreamer and a stonebreaker. You can simply spit out the leaves as you cross the meadow, crazy wind, so don't be afraid.

You cannot remove my name as a poet because a disturbing song has been performed using some of my poetry. 1919 You Say Be Patient You advise being patient with only a heaviness in your heart.

You sing: "Beyond Euphrates is better a Rose than a Mortal Maiden," and you patiently wait; by God, I will understand one day. "If you're able, allow me to play some more music for you.

Since there is no need to be in a better world with sweet Shagane, I will cut this rose. That is one of my pleasures. Don't make me suffer through agreements because you never keep your word.

I can kiss your lips even through poetry because I was born to be a poet. December 19, 1924 A rose is preferable to a girl who is mortal.

Please refrain from torturing me with coolness and refrain from enquiring as to my age. I made it through the gloomy valley while pulling the soul behind me like a skeleton.

I used to dream of becoming wealthy, well-known, and universally adored in my suburban childhood memories. Yes, I am wealthy—extravagantly wealthy.

My cylinder-shaped eyes are no longer present. Only one shirt and a pair of expensive but outdated shoes are still present.

My notoriety isn't any worse; this name, which is rife with profanity, slowly fades from Moscow to Paris. I know this feeling is too ripe, but the soul will not develop. Isn't that sweet, my love? Kissing each other, but your lips are like lead.

Keep your gold on the hill because a young goose is simple to cause a fuss about, so even if there is sadness, it doesn't matter because it's too early for me to be sad. Returning to the town's outskirts would allow me to hear the cygnet's cooing and witness it wallowing in ignorance for all time.

I wish I could have boyish dreams. The incomprehensible land and grass, the unspoken words of the heart, and the true meaning that people do not yet understand are all things that I yearn for something new and different about.

I'm Coming Down the Valley, from the year 1923 I'm coming down the valley. gloves, a brown scarf, and a hat.

In the distance, the pink meadows glow, and the river flows peacefully through the wide blue sky. My disposition is upbeat.

Simply hearing the song and singing along in your heart is all that is necessary. A girl wouldn't have to stoop down if the coolness were only to flow slowly.

I heard someone whistling and whispering something, so I followed the path down the valley where I met attractive men and women. "O poet, pay attention! Are you wise or not? Better here on earth.

It's unnecessary to float in the air. I adore my work just as much as you adore the valley.

Swing the scythe to demonstrate your character whether you are a farmer or not. Fortunately, the pen is not a rake.

Of course the scythe isn't a pen, but you can see how the lines on the outside always have an angle. People have read signs for many years while enjoying the springtime sun and clouds.

Forget about English classes, darn it. I don't care about cuts and bumps, even if they're inflamed in the morning mist. All right, give me the scythe and let me show you the meaning. Am I not your friend, am I not close to you, am I not cherishing the memories of the village.

While the horses and sheep passed by, I continued to walk through the valley. Both a song and a word are contained in this line.

My mind is content because of this. My poetry is read by every cow, and they all reward me with fresh milk.

18 July 1925 Unknowingly I Hear a Voice Unknowingly I hear a voice and see your thin face. I want to say, "Enough! Find another talk," but for some reason I can't explain and I feel embarrassed because you said it was inappropriate; "Yes, yes I remember now sit down I'm very happy I'll read you a poem about the Rus tavern." After reading it clearly and gently, our feelings are full of sadness like gypsies; "Sergei! You're not feeling well.

I'm sorry, but I find this embarrassing. Please tell me what happened to you. What fight made you so inebriated that it's known throughout the nation. "No need.

Who knows what you'll reveal to me when you do?" "Perhaps my mother gave birth in such a muggy autumn. "You are the Joker," Luna responded. "You are the Joker too.

"Do you love someone?" I replied, "No. "Perhaps it's an even stranger feeling.

We could have broken memories together, but instead you're destroying yourself over them." The streets were foggy. I have no idea why Luna is wearing her gloves and shawl, but I can tell that she is grinning broadly inside. Strangely enough, I find myself getting bored as the sixteen years pass quickly.

The mystery in the eye's movement lingered as we parted ways at dawn. The summer has a special beauty because during this time of year, our inner beauty comes to light.

Sergey Alexandrovich Yesenin, a poet, was born in Konstantinov, Ryazan, Russian Empire, on October 3, 1895. He passed away in Leningrad, Soviet Union, on December 28, 1925. Read: January 1925. Also read: Brodsky's Fruit of the Spirit. Also read: Osip Mandelstam's Poems. Also read: Kofe's Poetry. In what came to be known as the imagism style, he adopted the themes of lyrical awakening and nostalgia for his poetry.

Radunitsa, his first book of poetry collections, came out in 1916. Watchmakers in the Countryside, his second book of poetry collections, came out in 1918. He became a gentle lyricist as a result of the two books.

He became a member of the imagist literary group between 1919 and 1923. Through his later published works, including Mare Ships (1920), Moscow Kabatskaya (1924), and The Black Man (1925), Yesenin's name gained a growing amount of notoriety.

In the Pravda newspaper, NI Bukharin published an article titled "Evil Notes," which stirred up controversy. Bukharin urges a fight against Yeseninism as an alien class because he believes it to be the most unfavorable aspect of rural Russia.

The campaign to disparage Yesenin grew to include more abuse. His books were consequently not released for a very long time.

Despite this, the lyrical poet himself was still recognized by the general public. As well as being read and made into songs, Yesenin's works are more frequently distributed to art collectors in the form of handwritten collections.

Bukharin's position in the world of Russian literature was not sufficiently reflected in "Notes of Evil," according to literary critic DM Feldman, to stifle the poet's originality. The widely accepted theory among researchers and academics is that Yesenin's life led to a depressed state after a week in the hospital, and he hanged himself. Despite the tragic manner of his death by hanging, this theory is now generally accepted.

Iwan Jaconiah, a poet and poetry editor for Media Indonesia, has translated Sergey Yesenin's poems for Sajak Kofe - Media Indonesia. She is also the editor of the anthology Prayer for the Motherland: Voices of Students from Pushkin's Country, which will be published by Pentas Graphic in Jakarta in 2022. Artist Isaac Ilyich Levitan lived from 1860 to 1900 during the time of the Russian Empire and the Kingdom of Poland.

Let the moon shine for us for a longer period of time so that we can enjoy the autumn nights, the rustling of the birch tree shadows, and the shorter days.