B.Akhmadulina, December... - Translation (Rus.) Poem by Lyudmila Purgina

We keep within the rules of winter.
We play, without conceding time to laughing,
And, outlining shape of snow, we are
Raising up a white snow from a ground.

And passers-by, as if foreboding bad,
Are crowding against the fence, excited.
They're surely are busy with a care,
What really we're doing, bear in mind.

But we are modelling a snow-woman,
And that is all. Oh, the amazing triumph
Of movement, which provides the height-length
Of our work, the former snow.

You say: - Look, how I'm modelling now! -
You, really, in work are good,
In making form from the unformal snow.
I say: - Look, how I'm loving you!

And snow specifies its features gradually,
It is obedient to our command.
And suddenly I notice, how beautiful
Is your face, turned to cold snow.

We're going over the yard, white coloured,
Past passers-by with quite a saucy face.
My dear, keep such an expression childish
And steadfast, always hold a play.

And you, the work, be pliant to this tension
Of creativity of my man, my love!
Give him a luck of a happy child's behaviour,
Who's drawing a simple house with a pipe.