Andrei Voznesensky
You`re pale and pregnant sitting here...

You're pale and pregnant sitting here.
And, O, how much you’ve changed, my dear.

You tug your skimpy dress and try
To keep from crying, crying, cry...

But why do you girls spoil us all
And give us your lips as you fall

And run past railroad-crossing bars
And get left by the fast train’s cars?

You ran with them along the rails;
The windows streaked by rapidly.

They chug — the passengers, the mails —
Bound for Khabarovsk... Lubertsy...

And from Moscow to Ashkabad
The girls still stand like stone, rough-hewn,

In speechlessness along the road
With bellies bending to the moon.

This planet this unlived-in night
Is slowly turning toward that light,

And through its own big belly swell
Can understand these women well.

Translated by Vladimir Markov and Merrill Sparks