Sergey yesenin — over there beyond fields of yellow

Over there beyond fields of yellow
There are villages stretching ahead.
There"s a wood and the sunset of mellow
And a fence with a nettle thread.

There over the domes of the temple
Is the turquoise dust of the sky,
And the wind rings the grass, wet and gentle,
As it comes from the lakes nearby.

It is not for the song of the valley
That I love this greenery spill,
Like a crane I"m in love with the alley
And the convent on top of the hill.

When the azure gets misty and blooming,
And the sunset hangs over the bridge
I can see you, my wandering woman,
Go to bow to the cross and beseech.

Chaste is life in the convent village,
Public prayer absorbs you all,
Pray before our Saviour"s image,
Preach to God for my fallen soul.


(Текст на языке оригинала — см. Комментарии)