Sergei Yesenin

As I Wander Through The Early Snow

As I wander through the early snow, Heart erupting with the lily's play, Evening with its azure-candled glow Fires a star above my questing way. Is it light or dark? I cannot tell. Is it cockerel singing or the breeze? Was it winter snow on fields that fell? Was it swans there, settled and at ease? You are dear to me, white winter's dress! Gentle frosted touch my blood now warms, Tantalizing me with urge to press 'Gainst the peeling birches' bosom-forms. Oh, the sappy glue of forest's grasp! Oh, the joy of snowy meadows' prize! Guile that causes me to want to clasp Once again the woody willows' thighs.

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