Sergei Yesenin

O Fields Of Corn, O Fields Of Corn

O fields of corn, O fields of corn. An orphan's grief is mine; Heavy on my heart lies yesterday, But in my heart you shine. The fleeting miles whistle like birds About my horse's mane, And the sun is sprinkling lavishly Her holy healing rain. O land of floods and agony And gentle spring-tide powers. Under the masters Dawn and Stars I passed my schooling hours. While in the Bible of the winds I pondered o'er the words, Isaiah came and walked with me To keep my golden herds.

Comment Section just now

Feel free to be first to leave comment.

8/2200 - 0