Весьма вольный перевод на английский язык стихотворения
С.Есенина «Отговорила роща золотая…»
*
The golden birches finished speaking gladly
by funny language of their yellow leaves.
And flocks of cranes in sky are flying sadly
for no one feeling sympathy or griefs.
Why to feel grief? Each man in life is pilgrim.
He passes home, goes off and then comes back.
The hemp-field sees all the deceased in his dream
with wide half-moon which floats above blue lake.
I stand alone among the naked champaign,
while wind is blowing off the cranes away.
I think of my sweet youth but feel no pain,
that all my past with me can no more stay.
For wasted years I feel no grief or sorrow;
I do not care that lilac left my soul.
There is a fire in garden of red rowan,
вut flame of it can’t warm no one at all.
The arms of rowan will not turn to black ashes,
and grass won’t lose its color under sun.
As tree in wood its leaves on ground splashes,
so I shed words to page which have no fun.
And if the time with wind will put together
my words and leaves in one unwanted pile,
say so... that golden birches spoke with weather
in lovesome language of unusual style...
*
2016