Sergei Yesenin

Already Evening. Dew

Already evening. Dew Glistens in the nettles. I stand at the roadside Leaning against a willow. The great light of the moon Falls full upon our roof. I hear a nightingale Singing somewhere far-off. I feel good and warm, grand As the winter stove. And like big candles stand The birches of the grove. And far away, beyond The river and the town, A drowsy watchman knocks His dead stick on the ground.

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