Mister Park doesn't need poems.
He needs rubles, wons, dollars.
Poetry - don't even show it to him.
misunderstanding - that's what you may meet.
Julia needs them. I don't know why.
to break again? about gaol to remind?
may be she feels bored near the window,
wants songs from those who are not indifferent.
not from indifference? Id say more poetry and less money is what the world needs
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Even Jesus cautioned his disciples not to throw pearls to the swine, so I will take your advice and not give Mr. Park any poems. But Julia is an entirely different matter: if I gave her a potted plant, I know she would care for it and it would thrive. Julia is tender with living things, like colleagues at work, plants and flowers, friends of her heart, and now poems. I'm making inferences, guided by your quatrain, and writing a poem about these people who are both unreal and real to me, unreal because for all practical reasons there's no common ground, but real because feelings aroused are genuine and truly felt in our messages. So Julia and Elizaveta blur in my imagination, and it's always Elizaveta I intend to address. (And someday when we are lightful beings it will all be common ground for us! !)