Why is she sleeping on some steps
in the vicinity of the station?
In this place wouldn’t I too
bury my head in my knees?
Mummy didn’t let her child have a rat,
but he loves them,
he’s sorry for them,
what sort of people are these, Lord?
Head in the snow.
In the middle of Moscow
in a single night
turned to wax.
Translated by Daniel Weissbort