To greet me from beyond the mound.

The grizzle of the gloomy day

Is floating by over my home, and

The evening fills me with dismay

Like insurmountable torment.

Above the church, over the dome,

The sunset shade has fallen down.

My dear friends, I"m back at home,

And won"t be seeing you around.

The years have flown like a whirl,

And where are you, my friends, I wonder?

All I can hear is the purl

Of water by the mill-house yonder.

And often, sitting by the hearth,

To sound of sedge crack, or whatever,

I pray to steaming mother earth

For those who"re gone and lost for ever.Sergey Yesenin