Summer – Ekaterina Simonova translated by Kevin M.F. Platt
It’s completely pointless to write about a quiet little pleasure.
Nothing’s more of a bore than poems about everything being fine
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It’s completely pointless to write about a quiet little pleasure.
Nothing’s more of a bore than poems about everything being fine
Read More →
So that was Heaven, and I didn’t know —
But now, they’ll say, come in
Forever, frankly and without shame:
There’ll be no other place.Read More →
Biti ali ne biti?
Kakšno je to vprašanje?
Biti ali ne biti?
Kakšno je to vprašanje?Read More →
Журнал открылся на развороте с «Миром». Пахнуло надеждой и разочарованием. Никакой пыли, как будто номер недавно листалиRead More →
Sometimes there are no people at all.
Instead of them are grasses.
There are wet grasses and dry grasses.
Grasses are always there, always.Read More →
Life, as the great poet once said, turned out to be long. The now-former students of that college have made themselves into real people Read More →
I only think in Russian.
Later I’ll buy bread rings to go with my tea:
vanilla, toasted, a little staleRead More →
Над Татопани, маленькой, затерянной среди высоких суровых Гималаев деревушкой, зажглись холодные звездыRead More →
Невозможно описать, сколь обворожительна была виноградная беседка… Каждый изгиб лозы Read More →
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