From nowhere with love, on the -eenth of Marchember,
dear respectful my darling, doesn't matter
even who, for the face, speaking frankly, 
is impossible to remember, not yours, and
noone's best friend, sends his regards being on one
of the five continents, related to cow-boys;
I loved you more than angels and even Himself
and am further from you now, then from them both;
late at night, in the sleeping valley, in its very pit,
In a town burried up to the knobs,
twisting at night on the blank bed-sheet -
as not mentioned below at least, - with a throb
I whip up the pillow by moaning "you"
from beyond the seas, its shores connecting
in the dark, with my body your body through
all it's features, as a crazy mirror, reflecting.

translated by Polina Belkina

Original Russian version

Translation into English by the author

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