Having thawed, the loam drains.
Honey ’shrooms rot in the holt.
Wind is dancing on the plains,
Such a sorrel and cuddly colt;
Tar and salix scent the air
As it’s heaving or else calming,
And a sparrow at prayer
At a woody lectern’s psalming.
Last year’s leaves in heaps of brown
Are ’mongst bushes on hill-sides:
Someone in a sunny gown
On the sorrel colt rides.
His soft lock’s as if of tow,
Yet his image’s in a haze
As the firs and pines bow
And appeal to him in praise.
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«Сохнет стаявшая глина…», 1914
Yesenin S. Having thawed, the loam drains...
© Copyright: Рф Бартон, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124102507667
Свидетельство о публикации №124102507667
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