I couldn’t bear my first term in the camp, So they will add a year or two (Don’t argue with them! Please write me, dear fellows, if you can: "How goes it there in the world of freedom?" What do you drink? We don’t drink anything, All we have got is snow in sunny weather. Please write to me about everything, It’s boring here, and I need your letter. I miss you all, and it’s been years on end, I’d like to see your dear smiling faces, How is my sweetheart? Has she got a friend? No? Tell her she must write me a few phrases. It is as dreadful as the Trial of Ordeal. Your letter is a thread which mustn’t fail us. They will not forward it to me, I feel, But write me anyway, my dear fellows.
© Alec Vagapov. Translation, 1999