Yosef Latman
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ON NEW YEAR'S NIGHT...
(Free translation of the author Yosef Latman)
On New Year's eve, adoring snowstorm,
From childhood, at the ural's frosts, in morn
I, screwing up my eyes, rush against the wind in haze
Behind the sledge runners, losing their ways.
Sled, I hear, they run and creak on the go harder.
Snow crunches, and snowflakes swirl, chilling...
As soon as I will slightly open my eyes: like in a magic garden,
Having thrown off the leaves, the bushes become silver ..
The wind in the dance is crazy, laughing, blinding,
Do the breathing heavy by prickly snow in the shadow deep...
Somewhere the light flicker ... The Old Year, it looks , does not sleep,
Though tired ... - And the alarms did not silenting,
l ike the pain of my soul...
On New Year's night I love a blizzard
snowy black. And
So from childhood, at hard Ural's frosts...
Against time, is pity, I can't go (in the past all is lost...),
Though I can hear at times in my dreams the creaking of the runners -
as a miracles fore-runner.
December 2019
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