Beneath, above is ice - Iím pining midst it, - To hole upwards or to drill the floor? Of course, to rise, have no hope missed, To set to work then visas waiting for. Ice over me, be broken cracking strong! A ploughman like in a sweat Iím rolled. Iíll come to you like ships do in the song Remembering all, even verses old. I am five decades younger - forty odd being, - Your love and God me living try to salve. Iíve lots to sing before the Lord appearing, I have some things to justify myself.
© Natalia Tverskova. Translation, 2000