Текст песни Георгий Свиридов - Поэма памяти Сергея Есенина - 03. В том краю, где жёлтая крапива

In the land where yellow nettle
And dry hurdle,
Shelters in Verbier lonely
Cabin villages.

There in the fields behind the blue-grounds log,
The Green Lake,
Sandy road had been laid
Prior to the Siberian mountains.

Lost in Russia Mordovians and Tschudi,
Transcend her fear.
And go down that road people,
People in shackles.

All of them are murderers or thieves,
As they tried rock.
I fell in love sad their eyes
With depressions of the cheeks.

Many evil joy in the killers,
Their hearts are simple,
But the curve in blackened faces
Blue mouths.

I have one dream, hiding nezhu,
What I am pure in heart.
But I have someone to slaughter
By autumn whistle.

And my windmills sveyu,
According to eh sand,
Lead with a rope around his neck
To love melancholy.

And when, with a smile in passing
I straightened the chest,
The language zalizhet weather
I am living my way.

1915