Yesenin was a golden poet.
He loved his life, but died early
And scars of Native land he drew
Into a portrait. That was new.
The singer of Russia, the expert of people
In poems he opened his soul to the world
Snowfall in the winter, sunrise in the morning
Love to the homeland were in every word.
The verses imbued with emotion.
The war had come so close to him.
He showed the truth in all his poems.
It's not as easy as it seems.
He was so free, so independent
He gave his voice for the future life
In the name of truth and his ideas
He conquered people. Made them love.