Gennady Shpalikov
- I will grow out reaching you..., by Konstantin Yakovlev
- I will return as grass in spring..., by Natasha Gotskaya
«A blizzard sweeps the streets, / Coiling and staggering. / Someone gives me a hand, / Someone smiles at me, Leads me until I see a deep, / Enclosed by somber granite, / And this deep flows and sings, / And calls like an accursed spirit. I draw near, I withdraw, / I stand stock-still,...»
«Beyond the town a sterile quarter grew / On swampy and unsteady ground. / Here lived the poets — and each one met / The others with a supercilious smile. In vain upon this dismal swamp / The bright-eyed day arose: / The inmates devoted their time / Only to wine and heavy work. When d...»
«The winter day is cold and snowy, / White is the harbor, hard the ground. / A heavy liner, outward bound, / Is moving carefully and slowly. One yellow solitary lamp / Sways in the wind its ghostly halo, / The outlines of the crane and silo / Are blacker than the sky, and damp. Look how...»
«I’m praying to the window ray — / It’s pallid, thin, exact. / I have not said a word all day, / Although my heart is cracked. / Over the years, my washstand’s color / Became a tint of green. / The playful ray upon its copper / Creates a pleasing scene. / So pure and simple to...»