Tuesday, 10 May 2016

Upon Green Hills - Sergei Yesenin

Upon green hills wild droves of horses blow
The golden bloom off of the days that go.

From the high hillocks to the blue-ing bay
Falls the sheer pitch of heavy manes that sway.

They toss their heads above the still lagoon
Caught with a silver bridle by the moon.

Snorting in fear of their own shadow, they,
To screen it with their manes, await the day.

Sergei Yesenin (1895 - 1925) Russia
Translated by Babette Deutsch and Avrahm Yarmolinsky

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