You Were Sitting In My Summer Cottage. Poem by Liza Sud

You were sitting in my summer cottage.
Only two of us.
I was standing on my knees before you
out of great love.

Yellow are the walls of our bathhouse,
orange gleams of flames.
You're the best of politics of Russia,
and I am your mate.

You are wearing kosovorotka,
with blue flower edge,
and now you sit without clothes,
just in white towel weft.

Quietly we watch each other smiling,
and your look is mild,
Rustling of the grass, and forest climbing
up into the sky.

Such a growth of love, such elevation
as if not on earth.
Oh, I had a wonderful vacation
as the second birth.

Yellow are the walls of our bathhouse,
orange gleams of flames.
Talk of eyes, but we are keeping silence,
As if all was said.