Сергей Есенин. Москва

Yeah! Now it's solved. Without returning
I've left my native land.
And poplar's leafage - soaring
Above my head will never bend.
Without me low house has stooped, Long ago my dog died. On Moscow's winding routes
God wants me to die.
I love this elm-tree's city,
Though it's decrepit, thought it is old. Golden Asia - sleepy
On cupolas dozes in dream's world. And when the moon at night shines,
When it shines... Devil knows how! I am going to tavern of mine,
Letting my head down.
Noise and hubbub in this terrible den,
But all night long, to the daybreak, I read my verses to sluts and with gangs
My soul - drunk with alcohol I make.
The heart more often and often is beating :
- I am as you so hopeless case,
Not to the point I am repeating.
There is no way out if this waste.
Without me low house has stooped, Long ago my dog died.
On Moscow's winding routes
God wants me to die.