Сергей Есенин - Мы теперь уходим понемногу - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

We now leave gramnog

In the country where you quiet and grace.

Maybe soon I am on the road

Broen belongings to collect.

Many doom I thought up in silence,

A lot of songs about yourself folded

And on this on earth sullen

Holded that I breathed and lived.

I know in that country there will be no

These NIV, in the MGL.

Because the road me people

What lives on Earth.

I know that they do not bloom there for children,

Do not ring the swan neck Rye.

Because of the premises

I always feel trembling

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Sergey Yesenin premeditated his own death a few years to tragic events in the Leningrad Hotel Angletter. This is evidenced by poetic poets filled with sadness and the feeling of the inevitability of all that is happening. Refreighs on the epith in them are present in them with enviable constancy, starting from mid-1923, when the poet suddenly realized that youth remained in the past, and the future does not promise anything new and fascinating him.

In 1924, Yesenin publishes the poem "We are now going to gradually ...", permeated by the spirit of decline and pessimism. It feels that the author is internally preparing for death, although directly and does not speak about it. However, mentally, he says goodbye to him in some places, noting: "Before this Sonm, I cannot hide my longing." It should be noted that the poem itself was written under the impression of the death of the poet of Alexander Shiryaevtsa, who suddenly died from meningitis aged 37 years. He was one of the dowy friends of Yesenin, so his death poet perceived as a personal tragedy, making the appropriate conclusions from it: "Maybe I will soon be on the road."

In this work, the author admits that he thought very much about his own life, which he considers quite successful. However, Yesenin does not consider himself to the category of people who cling to every moment of existence in this glossy world. Even he himself speaks already in the past time, noting: "And on this, the sullen is happy that I breathed and lived." Introducing myself after death, the poet with the inner trepidation notes: "I know that I don't bloom there." Therefore, the prospect of changing in oblivion seems to him depressing. Alexander Shiryaevets has already crossed this face that Yesenin is experiencing a real panic. Nevertheless, the author understands all the inevitability of death and feels that it will very soon become its next prey. Therefore, every moment of earthly life acquires a special meaning for him. After all, behind the feature, to which Yesenin was already approached, he was waiting for unknown, although the author himself is convinced that there is darkness, cold and emptiness. The poet does not believe in the immortality of the soul and does not seek to eternity, realizing that it is meaningless without the favorite fields and rivers, without Osin and birch, purple clodes of rowan and nightingale trills. But most of all Yesenin is afraid of what will ever meet those who have been with him next to all these years. "Therefore, the roads of me people who live with me on Earth," says the poet, saying goodbye not only with a friend, but also with his life itself.