Trafika Europe 13 - Russian Ballet

Maria Stepanova

With my bare throat, to women’s gasps And quiet close-packed swearing I sing of poppies beside the road, The battalion commander perishing. My soft voice, like a pointed awl Pierces through the train car comfort, And people start feeling lousy, And they beat me in the vestibule. An honest song is savage like that, Because it disturbs people’s hearts, And the passengers’ fastness stands Like tears in the midst of a face.

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