little light… shining… her soft voice pleads… each piano shard cold and biting
dark October races by… out there a distant light ignites her words
this school exchange… we take the night train… Moscow to St. Petersburg
my Walkman whirrs… tape spools turn… the train's voice conjugates invented Russian verbs
kerchushka… kerchushka… kerchushka… translates as motion luring us to sleep
I stay awake… watching… listening… private moments stolen in the company of sleepers
the long considered night drags us further than the distances we feel
she mumbles now… you won't hear me come in… you won't hear me leaving...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Write comment. Nice poetry, Neil. Read my poem, Love and Iust. Thanks