Перевод С. Есенин на англ: "Не жалею..."

No regrets, no calling and no crying,

Everything will pass away

Like smoke off white apple trees.

Golden withering in me, preoccupying,

I am no longer young to be.

My heart, now chilled, you won't

Beat in me again the old way.

And the land of birches' chintz no more

Lures bare feet to stray.

Rambler's spirit, rarely, more rarely

You stir my lips' flame.

Oh, my forfeited freshness, my eyes'riot,

And my feelings’ spate.

I’ve become more stingy in desires,

The life of mine, I wonder,

Have you been my dream?

As though in the early echoing of time

I rode by on a rosy steed.

All of us, all of us aren't eternal

Maples’ copper is gently pouring down,

So, you, be blessed forever more,

What came here to bloom and die.