I couldn’t take the first year of my sentence. They’ll add a year, but maybe even four. Guys, please, write me a letter, How are the things there, in your free world? What are you drinking? We don’t drink too much, Here’s only snow during the sunny weather. Fellows, write about everything, Because nothing good happens here. You can’t imagine how I miss you, guys, I long to see your dear faces! How’s Nadya? Who is she with now? If she’s alone, let her write too. Only the Last Judgment could be worse than that, To me your letter will be a sparing thread. Maybe they won’t give it to me, But still, guys, please, write it...
© Nathan Mer. Translation, 1991