Return home - Yesenin


I visited the place birthmarks,
Tu selschynu,
Where he lived a boy,
Where watchtower with birch tower
He shot up the bell tower without a cross.

How much has changed there,
Their poor unattractive way of life.
What many discoveries
Follow me follow hard.

paternal house
I could not recognize;
Too conspicuous maple outside the window is not waving,
And on the porch is not sitting too mother,
Feeding chickens krupitchatoyu porridge.

old, must be, I became ...
Yes, old.
I'm sad to look around in the neighborhood:
What is unfamiliar terrain:
one, how old, whitens the mountain,

Yes, the mountain
High gray stone.
here cemetery!
rotten crosses,
As if in melee dead,
Frozen with arms outstretched.

on the trail, opershys on podozhok,
He is an old man, sweeping dust from weeds.

"Passer!
edict, boyfriend,
Where is Tatiana lives Esenina?»

"Tatiana ... Um ...
Yes he won to put out.
And you tell her that?
Related?
Al, может, son disappeared?»

"Yes, a son.
But what, old man, with you?
Tell me,
Why are you staring skorbyasche?»

«Good, my grandson,
good, that you did not recognize his grandfather!..»
'Brother, grandfather, Can it be that you?»
And poured sad conversation
Tears on the warm dusty flowers.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . .

"You, perhaps, soon to be thirty ...
And I really ninety ...
Soon grave.
Would long ago it was time to come back ",–
He says, and he frowns all.
"Yes!.. Time!..
You're not a Communist?»
"Not!..»
"A sister steel Komsomolka.
This muck! Just boa!
Yesterday icons thrown off the shelf,
At church Commissioner took the cross.
Now there is no place to pray to God.
Oh, I go now to sneak into the woods,
Pray aspens ...
Can, handy ...
Go home -
You all see for yourself ".

And we go, violates mezhoy Puppet.
I smile arable land and forests,
A grandfather with longing looks at the bell tower.
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"It's great, mother! awesome!» –
And again, I pull a handkerchief to her eyes.
Then burst into tears and could cow,
Looking at this poor area.

Lenin on the wall calendar.
Here life sisters,
sisters, not my,–
But all are ready to drop me to my knees,
see you, favorite edge.

Neighbors came ...
woman with a child.
No one will know me.
For our bayronovsky sobachonka
I was met at the gate, barking.

Brother, cute edge!
Not that you become,
not the.
Yeah, and I, of course, I did not the former.
The mother and grandfather sad and hopeless,
Merrier sisters laughing mouth.

Of course, Me and Lenin icon,
I know the world ...
I love my family ...
But why is all the same with a bow
I sit down on a wooden bench.

"Well, speaks, sister!»
And sister breeds,
aperture, as the Bible, bellied "Capital",
On Marx,
Engels ...
Do not, under any weather
I have these books, of course, do not read.

And I find it funny,
How mischievous girl
Me around by the collar takes ...
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. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
For our bayronovsky sobachonka
I was met at the gate, barking.

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Alexander Blok
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