Текст песни Сергей Есенин - читает А.Дубровский Есть светлая радость...

There is bright joy under the canopy of bushes
Cry about the past of the native shores
And, the first sagging caressing on his forehead,
With a pleasant pain to blame fate.
Neither a friend nor a thought about woman's lips
Not ripening in her quiet wise words,
But there is in her, like faith, a living dream
Bring the mouth to an invisible light.
We love the evening in it, over the river oats, -
And the youth frisky with the medyn hair.
Shaking off the ghostly smoke with her eyebrows
It’s sweet for us to tell them secrets.
There is gentle meekness, crouching on the threshold,
Praying the sunset and the face of the road.
In sprinkled groves, in harvested fields
Our thought about the days of work is sad.
For the father's tale, for the rafters ringing
The rustle of unknown wings carries her ...
But firmly in the plains of feather grass meadows
The truth of parental dreams rests.