The farmhouse is lonely without me,
and my old dog is gone from the door;
God sent me to die in the backstreets
and I can’t go home any more.
I’m in love with this overdone city,
though it’s dirty and falling apart;
it reminds me of stories at bedtime,
and the street sounds hurt my heart.
I go out for a fix after midnight,
and the fix that I’m after is fame,
so I head for a bar in the backstreets
where everyone knows my name.
It’s noisy and dirty and drunken
but nobody there drinks alone –
the bartenders buy me my vodka
and the hookers cry at my poems.
My heart beats faster and faster,
and I say to the drunk by the door –
‘I’m like you, my life’s a disaster,
and I can’t go home any more.’
Oh, the farmhouse is lonely without me,
and my old dog is gone from the door;
God sent me to die in the backstreets
and I can’t go home any more.
by Сергей Александрович Есенин (Sergei Alexandrovich Yesenin)
a.k.a. Sergey Yesenin / Esenin
(1922)
translated by Paul Schmidt
