She

In her despiteous and shameless wickedness
She is, as ashes, grey or grey as dust. 
And I am perishing from just her nearness,
From bonds that  solidly connected us.

She is a coarse one, she is a prickly one, 
She is a cold one - she is a snake.
With her repulsive scales she had a cruel fun: 
She makes me constantly be sternly baked.

If only I can feel a sharpness of the sting!
She is such clumsy, dull, such still as beef,
She is such massive thing, she is such languid thing;
I haven't access to her - she's deadly deaf.

And she inflexibly with her repulsive rings             
Always caresses me and strangles at all.
And this unreal thing, this black and awful thing,
This black and monstrous thing - is just my soul!        


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, December, 1995