My first term was too much for me. They’ll slap on maybe a year or two more. So write me a letter, lads. How are things in that free world of yours! What are you drinking out there? There’s nothing but snow here, nothing to drink. So, lads, write me all about it. Nothing happening here. What do you think? I’d like a look at your ugly mugs! It’s really tough for me without you. What’s with Nadiukha there, who’s she with? Alone? Let her write me a letter, too. Maybe only the Last Judgement is final! A letter, for me, would be a lifeline. Maybe they won’t hand it over. But a letter, lads, that’d be fine...
© H. William Tjalsma. Translation, 1982