B.Akhmadulina, December... - translation (rus.)
We keep within the rules of winter.
We play, without conceding time to laughing,
And, outlining shape of snow, we are
Raising up a white snow from a ground.
And passers-by, as if foreboding bad,
Are crowding against the fence, excited.
They're surely are busy with a care,
What really we're doing, bear in mind.
But we are modelling a snow-woman,
And that is all. Oh, the amazing triumph
Of movement, which provides the height-length
Of our work, the former snow.
You say: - Look, how I'm modelling now! -
You, really, in work are good,
In making form from the unformal snow.
I say: - Look, how I'm loving you!
And snow specifies its features gradually,
It is obedient to our command.
And suddenly I notice, how beautiful
Is your face, turned to cold snow.
We're going over the yard, white coloured,
Past passers-by with quite a saucy face.
My dear, keep such an expression childish
And steadfast, always hold a play.
And you, the work, be pliant to this tension
Of creativity of my man, my love!
Give him a luck of a happy child's behaviour,
Who's drawing a simple house with a pipe.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
by Bella Akhmadulina
Comments about this poem (B.Akhmadulina, December... - translation (rus.) by Lyudmila Purgina )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
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