С. Есенин. Отговорила роща золотая. Вольный перево

The golden grove expended simple message
That birches whispered to the autumn skies,
And flocks of cranes attuning to the presage
Are passing by without solemn cries

Who is to soothe? The whole world is tramping
The houses are entered and escaped.
The hempen bush and crescent over damping
Have no dreams to wait for coming late   

I placed myself in the deserted valley
And watch how cranes are shifted by the wind
I think of youthful days and their rally
But I am not in any way chagrined.
 
I do not think of many wasted years,
Avoid a memory of lilac in my soul.
The rowan fire’s gleaming in the rears
But it is not as hot as burning coal.   

The rowan bunches do not burn to ashes.
The grass will not attribute yellow hue.
I drop disconsolate and worded flashes
As trees would drop their leaves when time is due.

And if the time will sweep them into trashes
And makes the wind complete its final blow
Just say: the golden grove went into crashes,
And no whisper’s heard whatever so.