Author of quotes: Sergey Alexandrovich Yesenin. Page 1

Dreams and tears
Flowers and dreams
Give you.
From the quiet affection
And gentle tale
I'm on fire.
And how much flour
Holy sounds
Cause to me!
But the power of grated
I will send all to hell.
Come to me.

Nowhere in my love courage.
And why? Whom should I sing songs?-
If was not jealous Step
Kohl doors I could not unlock,
Nowhere in my love courage.
It's time for me to go back to Russia.
Persia! You do leave?
Eh forever with you leave
For the love of dear me an edge?
It's time for me to go back to Russia.
Bye, peri, goodbye,
I could not let door unlock,
You gave a beautiful suffering,
About you at home I sing.
Bye, peri, goodbye.

In Khorasane there are doors
Where roses sprinkled the threshold.
There lives a brooding peri.
In Khorasane there are doors
But open those doors, I could not.
In my hands quite a force,
In her hair is gold and copper.
Peri's voice gentle and beautiful.
In my hands quite a force,
But doors I could not unlock.

Good-Bye, Baku! You I will not see.
Now in the soul of sorrow now in my heart the fright.
Heart and hand is now painful and closer
And I feel stronger than a simple word: friend.

Oil on water -
Like a blanket of Persian,
And the evening sky
Scattered stellar spectrum.
But I'm willing to swear
The pure in heart,
The lights are beautiful stars in Baku.

Let me not sing today -
I sang when I was my sick.

The language of fellow citizens became a stranger to me,
In the country I am like a foreigner.

My poetry is no longer needed,
And, perhaps, I myself also not needed here.

But then,
When the whole planet
Will the hostile tribes,
Disappear lies and sadness, -
I will sing
All being in the poet
The sixth part of the earth
With the short name "Rus".

Blooming - happy-go-lucky, was a knife,
And now suddenly hung down as if lifeless.

Love does not require bail,
With her know the joy and trouble.
"You're mine" to only say may hand,
That tore the black veil.

Love words can not say
About love only sigh furtively
Yes, eyes like sapphires, burning.

Then I
Under a wild noise
Mature but knows the job
Went down into the ship's hold,
So as not to look human vomit.
The hold was -
The Russian tavern.
I bent over the glass
That without suffering no one
Yourself to ruin
In a drunken stupor.

When the boiling surface of the sea -
The ship is in a deplorable state.