Are you indifferent to my poems?
Or do not want to read me in English?
I don't believe it. Today it was snowing,
And it seemed that low on me you were sitting,
your back to me, on the lawn's fence. In jacket,
Snow falls quietly, heat under bosom.
In English it is a flight to another
world of invisible, not to meet follies.
All remains powerful! For you are also
strong. Or you're weak. I'm indifferent to signs.
Eternal algebra replaced the Opposites,
Making them Possible. Without redoubts
or the reduction. You know, that I join
into your brain where now I survive.
And through the word - Oh! - this weapon of Passion! -
Happiness flowes into me. So I write.