I probably could try and kill somebody else
With misty arrows of verses
Or shoot into a male's chest
Aiming two guns of knees with curses…
But then…
How not to let my dear self perish?
The little blue vein is beating on my neck with anguish
And tries to break its usual shape…
But I'll hide my knees in an indifference-covered cape.
The image of a bullet is no good to cherish.
It's better to escape.
Translated from Russian by Larisa Ladyka
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem