Yesenin is my low house for a long time. No return ... ”S. Yesenin. "Yes! Now decided. No return ... "Sergey Yesenin

Yesenin’s verse “Yes, it’s now decided without a refund”, which can be easily downloaded on our website, was written in 1922 and included in the Moscow Kabatskaya cycle. The author cherished this collection very much and repeatedly tried to publish it as a separate book.

In this work, the poet continues to raise a question of concern to him - about his place in life. One part of his soul is inextricably linked with the village of Konstantinov, but there is a second, and Moscow penetrates deeper into it. This city is dark, flabby, decrepit, like a "terrible den." But no matter what he is, it is obvious that he is his fate and perish him in these "curved streets." Yesenin talks about this with incredible longing, and at the same time with humble acceptance. You can read the text of the poem “Yes, it’s now decided without return” on our website online.

Yes! Now it’s decided. No refund
  I left my homeland.
  Will not be winged foliage
  The poplar is ringing over me.

  My old dog has long died.

I love this city of rape
  Let him flabber and let him loose.
  Golden Drowsy Asia
  Opolela on the domes.

And when the moon shines at night,
  When it shines ... God knows how!
  I'm coming head down
  Alley in a familiar tavern.

The noise and din in this den is creepy,
  But all night long until dawn
  I read poems to prostitutes
  And with gangsters I fry alcohol.

Heart beats more and more
  And I say out of place:
  - I'm the same as you, the missing one,
  I can’t go back now.

A low house hunches over without me
  My old dog has long died.
  On Moscow curved streets
  To die, to know, God promised me.

Here, I stumbled upon - Zemfira  sings a song to the poetry of Sergei Yesenin.
Heartbreaking  execution, in the best sense of the word.
Worth listening, honestly:

At Mongol-Shuudan, she was sung much earlier, but I like it less.
Compared to Zemfira, it is somehow muffled and completely unemotional.

Yes! Now decided. No refund
I will leave my native land.
Will not be winged foliage
The poplar is ringing over me.

My old dog has long died.

I love this city of rape
Let him flabber and let him loose.
Golden Drowsy Asia
Opolela on the domes.

And when the moon shines at night,
When it's shining ... the devil knows how!
I'm coming head down
Alley in a familiar tavern.

The noise and din in this den is creepy,
And all night long, until dawn
I read poems to prostitutes
And with gangs I fry alcohol.

Heart beats more and more
And I say out of place:
I'm the same as you, missing
I can’t go back now!

A low house hunches over without me
My old dog has long died.
On Moscow curved streets
To die, to know, God judged me.

Someday it will be necessary to collect all the songs on Yesenin’s verses together -
probably a lot will work, even with the Soviet romances starting.

"Yes! Now decided. No return ... "Sergey Yesenin

Yes! Now decided. No refund
  I left my native fields.
  Will not be winged foliage
  The poplar is ringing over me.

  My old dog is long gone.

I love this city of rape
  Let him flabber and let him loose.
  Golden Drowsy Asia
  Opolela on the domes.

And when the moon shines at night,
  When it's shining ... God knows how!
  I'm coming head down
  Alley in a familiar tavern.

The noise and din in this den is creepy,
  But all night long, until dawn
  I read poems to prostitutes
  And with gangsters I fry alcohol.

Heart beats more and more
  And I say out of place:
  - I'm the same as you, the missing one,
  I can’t go back now.

A low house hunches over without me
  My old dog is long gone.
  On Moscow curved streets
  To die, to know, God judged me.

Analysis of Yesenin’s poem “Yes! Now decided. No refund ... "

In the early 20s of the last century, the attitude to the work of Sergei Yesenin was very controversial. Despite the fact that he was called the poet of the village, some of the author’s poems caused obvious discontent among party leaders who considered Esenin’s too frank and unpleasant remarks about the Soviet regime unacceptable. In addition, he could not be forgiven for constant fights and drunken fights, a disordered personal life and unprincipledness from the point of view of the new system, since the poet never took part in campaigning events and did not call for labor exploits.

Meanwhile, Yesenin clearly saw how the world around him was changing, and understood that he had no place in it. Tired of the bustle of the capital and the tavern bacchanalia, the poet tried several times to return to his homeland, to the village of Konstantinovo. However, after he nevertheless managed to visit his mother, Yesenin wrote a series of very controversial and bitterly poems in which he actually renounced places he had known since childhood. The reason was still the same - the famous poet in his homeland was not needed by anyone, except relatives. In the Russian hinterland, where the inhabitants were busy building collective farms and collectivization, no one heard of Yesenin's work. As a result, he realized that, having left for Moscow, he had lost something very important and expensive for himself, which he was no longer able to return.

In 1922, Sergei Yesenin wrote the poem “Yes! Now decided. No return ... ”, which put a bullet in the“ rural ”stage of his work. Of course, the author subsequently repeatedly turned to landscape lyrics, however, he no longer admired so sincerely the beauties of his native land, since these bright sensations and impressions were overshadowed by harsh reality. Devastation, famine and poverty reigned in the villages of that time. Therefore, Yesenin, who knew the taste of metropolitan life, no longer wanted to vegetate in a rickety wooden hut and, even more so, work for workdays on a collective farm.

In his poem, the author notes that he forever leaves the "native fields", implying by this that he will never become that barefoot peasant boy who could spend hours listening to the rustle of poplar leaves. At the same time, Yesenin bitterly notes that "on the winding streets of Moscow, you know, God knew for me to die." And in this phrase there is not a gram of bragging or ostentatious self-flagellation. The poet is well aware that his life has reached a dead end, from which death is the only reasonable way out. In any case, for Esenin she is much more attractive than the numerous metropolitan taverns in which he spends all day, reads “poems to prostitutes and with gangsters I fry alcohol”.

For Moscow, life in Moscow became a real whirlpool for Esenin, who dragged the poet deeper and deeper every month. If earlier he dreamed of his native village, dreaming of returning home at least for a short while, now he has lost this comfort. Therefore, the poet compares himself with the tavern regulars, noting: "I am the same as you, the missing person, now I can’t go back." And it's not that he does not have the willpower to break with the dissolute lifestyle. Yesenin does not see the goal for which it would be worth doing it. And he does not see the point in his own life, which he seems to be illusory and completely stupid. She has no future, which could become for the poet a kind of guiding star, a goal to which she should strive despite everything. In fact, it was during this period that Yesenin realized that he had lost his homeland, which now lives according to other laws and does not need anyone to sing its beauty instead of building a socialist society.

Yes! Now it’s decided. No refund
I left my homeland.
Will not be winged foliage
The poplar is ringing over me.

My old dog has long died.

To die, to know, God promised me.

I love this city of rape
Let him flabber and let him loose.
Golden Drowsy Asia
Opolela on the domes.

And when the moon shines at night,
When it shines ... God knows how!
I'm coming head down
Alley in a familiar tavern.

The noise and din in this den is creepy,
But all night long until dawn
I read poems to prostitutes
And with gangsters I fry alcohol.

Heart beats more and more
And I say out of place:
- I'm the same as you, the missing one,
I can’t go back now.

A low house hunches over without me
My old dog has long died.
On Moscow curved streets
To die, to know, God promised me
Other Lyrics of Zemfira

Other names for this text

• Zemfira - Moscow (word S. Yesenin)
• Zemfira - Moscow (S. Yesenin)
• Zemfira - Moscow (to the verses of Sergei Yesenin)
• Zemfira - Moscow (verses S. Yesenin)
• Zemfira - Moscow
• Zemfira - I love this city (f. Yesenin)
• zemfira / esenin - moskva
• ★ Zemfira - Moscow (f. Yesenin) ★
• Zemfira live - Moscow ("Yes! Now it's decided without a return!")
• Zemfira - Everything is now decided without return (f. Yesenin)
• Zemfira - Moscow (words. Sergey Yesenin)
• Zemfira - Moscow (word S. Yesenin)
• Sergey Yesenin (read by A. Zlishchev) - Low house with blue shutters ...

Yesenin's Poems! Be careful, I do not award authorship, I just love Yesenin
* * *
  Yes! Now it’s decided. No refund
  I left my homeland.
  Will not be winged foliage
  The poplar is ringing over me.

  My old dog has long died.

I love this city of rape
  Let him flabber and let him loose.
  Golden Drowsy Asia
  Opolela on the domes.

And when the moon shines at night,
  When it shines ... God knows how!
  I'm coming head down
  Alley in a familiar tavern.

The noise and din in this den is creepy,
  But all night long until dawn
  I read poems to prostitutes
  And with gangsters I fry alcohol.

Heart beats more and more
  And I say out of place:
  - I'm the same as you, the missing one,
  I can’t go back now.

A low house hunches over without me
  My old dog has long died.
  On Moscow curved streets
  To die, to know, God promised me.
1922

Reviews

Walking in the night of Moscow streets
  And hold a little familiar by the hand
  When the desires in me woke up
  With me narrowed to overcome separation ...

It doesn’t mean wanting to get married
  But disagreeing with one to be the same ...
  What could have happened in youth
  It looks great on the current one.

Walking at night under a white snowfall
  That under the foot will explode in a creak
  I need you like nothing is needed now
  Tired of true, but mistakes ...

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