By Frieda Shutman
I hear the music of the rain.
The wind is singing me its songs.
I think – without this – in vain,
The whole world to mess belongs.
You want to sit in empty cell
And listen only to heartbeat.
It’s better go to the hell
And not to waste the moment, it
Is as long as life again,
It has eternal endless length.
I hear the music of the rain
And get, at last, the endlessness.
7/06/08.
Authorized translation from Russian by Frieda Shutman.