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Page:Modern Russian Poetry.djvu/191

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165
Sergei Yesenin

"UPON GREEN HILLS"

Upon green hills wild droves of horses blow
The golden bloom off of the days that go.

From the high hillocks to the blue-ing bay
Falls the sheer pitch of heavy manes that sway.

They toss their heads above the still lagoon
Caught with a silver bridle by the moon.

Snorting in fear of their own shadow, they,
To screen it with their manes, await the day.