A house without books is like a room without windows.

Heinrich Mann

 
 
 
 
The Birch Tree
Tập thơ Sergei Aleksandrovich Yesenin: epubePub   PDF A4A4   PDF A5A5   PDF A6A6  
 
The Birch Tree
Under my window
Tucked in the snow
White birch retired
Clad in silver glow.
 
On the fluffy branches
Snowy-trim with silver-tinge
Melted around catkins
Forming white fringe.
 
Like golden fires
Snow-flakes blazed
While birch stood still
Asleep, or amazed.
 
Meanwhile, lazily
Strolling around,
Dawn threw more “silver”
On the twigs (and ground).