How are you doing? We drove over the wintery Moscow, and highways were of huge snowdrafts at sides, though well up lit and so. I enjoyed the atmosphere of a megapolis, with people up crowding near subway's stations and with colorful illuminating of stores... There have appeared multi-storeyed buildings nearby, within my quarter, and basic supermarkets now stand unnoticeable. Moscow keeps only one warantee from becoming unembracably huge, the fact that it lacks the sae or the ocean and that winters here are severe. At the rest, it is immense and uncontrollably civilized. I have been abiding here for 25 long year, since my childhood, and I have breathed it year for long. It is of peril and alarm, when a girl is ruppening at the atmosphere of the city. Her origins underpass intolerable changes. But we still ought not to victimize our anscestry to instant's need and expectations.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem