My leafless maple, why, frozen over,
Stand in the blizzard, bending lower?
You’ve noticed something? Or heard a sound?
Beyond the village, you have gone out.
As though a drunk guard, out in the street,
You’ve sunk in snow and froze your feet.
I am, myself, now, drunk and unstable,
My house is far, and I’m - unable…
I met a willow there, and there - a pine.
In snow, I sang to them of summertime.
It seemed to me, - I was a maple too,
But dressed in green, not nude like you.
And lacking modesty, I hugged, revived,
The birch as though another’s wife.
November 28, 1925
By Sergey Esenin
Translation by Andrey Kneller