Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Anzhelina Polonskaya

Letters to Sappho

I’m writing letters. To you. We spoke about them half the night.
Years pass.
Nerves are shot.
No one can be brought back.

You can scream as much as you want.
Cover the lamp.
You can lean against a tree trunk
and wait things out.
How much sky and air out there!
But nothing to breathe.

Your inner rain’s soaked everything –
your legs have stuck to your skirt hem,

bare legs, with thin streams of tendons.

Письма к Сафо

Письма к Сафо

Письма пишу. К тебе. О которой говорили полночи.
Годы уходят.
Нервы продеты в иглу.
И никого не вернуть.

Можешь кричать сколько хочешь.
Лампу смахнуть.
К полому дереву можешь прижаться спиною
и переждать.
Неба и воздуха столько!
Нечем дышать.

Внутренний дождь всё промочил –
ноги прилипли к подолу,

голые ноги, с тонкими струйками жил.
Close

Letters to Sappho

I’m writing letters. To you. We spoke about them half the night.
Years pass.
Nerves are shot.
No one can be brought back.

You can scream as much as you want.
Cover the lamp.
You can lean against a tree trunk
and wait things out.
How much sky and air out there!
But nothing to breathe.

Your inner rain’s soaked everything –
your legs have stuck to your skirt hem,

bare legs, with thin streams of tendons.

Letters to Sappho

I’m writing letters. To you. We spoke about them half the night.
Years pass.
Nerves are shot.
No one can be brought back.

You can scream as much as you want.
Cover the lamp.
You can lean against a tree trunk
and wait things out.
How much sky and air out there!
But nothing to breathe.

Your inner rain’s soaked everything –
your legs have stuck to your skirt hem,

bare legs, with thin streams of tendons.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Hendrik Muller fonds
Lira fonds
J.E. Jurriaanse
Literature Translation Institute of Korea
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère