Drizzling over a glass, a snowwhite scrap of wintry landscapes... I fiddle through pages of this manuscript. No footnotes occur, each line is meaningful and self-sufficing. My prose is long and of extracts. These are verses of verses, mere line, sheer sense. No more significant episodes will occur in this play. Only simplistic feelings create their unique and weighty radiance. No more unexpected angles of sense, only brisk sensations... By Anna Polibina-Polansky, Moscow,2022.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem