Spring on the joy is not like - Yesenin

Spring is not like the joy,
And not from the sun yellow sand.
Your skin is weathered
Luchila buckwheat down.

In blue watering
On shishkoperoy swan
we swore, that we two
And nowhere to be apart.

incense TEM, and evening toshtiy
Recoiling in a fiery thread,
I walked you to the grove,
For your parental hut.

And in a long long slumber shaky
I could not tear my face,
When you're with a tender smile
I waved his cap from the porch.

1916

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Vladimir Mayakovsky
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