Writing poems in English –
Sometimes disturbs your breath.
If it is not a translation –
It is a small death.
It’s as if you were standing
In totally empty room.
Loneliness is frightening
Sea, a dark rosk, a gloom.
Poor Iosif Brodsky!
He had to do so.
He had to do it on purpose.
In exile -Oh – he was!
Feels as you were in palsy
Speak with unknown goals,
Prison of Foreign language
Sometimes can break your soul.
You breathe Liza calmly. Yes it goes over. - Prison of Foreign language Sometimes can break your soul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Speak with unknown goals, Prison of Foreign language Sometimes can break your soul. you are right. a foreign language always remains foreign language inspite of using it daily, cause we always dream in our mother tongue. Great concept poetess!