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Love

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    Sing, old man, to the bloody guitar, and
    Let your fingers show natural bent.
    I would choke in this drunken enchantment
    You"re my last and my only friend.


    Don"t you look at her wrist and the blooming
    Silky shawl hanging down her head.
    I was looking for  joy in this woman
    But I found perdition instead.
    
    I did not know that love was infection,
    I did not know that love was a plague.
    She  just came and  feigning affection
    Drove the rowdy mad, no mistake.
    
    Sing and let me  remember, brother,
    Our fidgety youthful whirl.
    Let her kiss, pet and fondle  another,
    Ah, this beautiful wicked girl!
    
    No, no, wait.  I don"t blame her or bully.
    No, no, wait.  I don"t damn or disgrace.
    Let me sing  now about yours truly
    To the sound of this string of base.
    
    Rosy vault of my days is streaming.
    I"ve got plenty of golden dreams.
    I have petted  so many  young women,
    Touched and squeezed them, governed by whims.
    
    Yes! There is  bitter truth of the world
    When a child I caught sight of that truth:
    Troops of hounds, excited and wild,
    Taking turns lick a bitch all in juice.
    
    Why be jealous of her? I don"t get.
    Being sick would be mere pretext.
    Our life is just bed-sheet and bed.
    Our life is a kiss and a vortex.
    
    Sing, old man! In the fateful sphere
    Of these hands is a fated end.
    Tell them all to f... out of here.
    I will never be dead, my friend.

 

Esenin...

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