Nostalgia Poem by Vic Postnikov

Nostalgia - a hassle,
Long- exposed!
I'm absolutely pointless
Where to go

Along the streets of cobble,
I drag myself,
To some unknown barrack
I call "my place"

I'm absolutely passive
If I must snap
Like a lion captivated
By people's mass

Or, ousted, hide in private,
Like a bear,
Can't bear innuendos
Everywhere

I won't be either flattered
By native tongue,
Don't matter in what language
I'm cursed by one!

(Those who engage in
papers, fond of buzz)
They're eager for the century -
I can't care less

I'm like a lifeless trunk
Left from a tree
All people look alike -
To mindless me

Or maybe even days
I held most dear
My soul, my precious soul,
Could not secure

That land was so unfeeling
Even sleuth
Would not detect a birthmark
'cross my soul

Each home, each dome is foreign
Indiscrete,
But should I meet a rowan
On the street…


- Marina Tsvetaeva,1934
Trabs. Vic Postnikov,2013