'Winter' (poem) written by Julia Nemirovskaya

This poem has been translated from the Russian by Boris Dralyuk

Here it is, my dearest winter,

dearer than the fall or spring.

Here it is, my native country,

where I'm always wintering.

Here are the soldiers, soft as cotton,

but in khaki head to toe.

I'm to blame for their misfortune,

don't allow them in my home -

which is why they're running, running

all across our hard-white land,

like they'll run along that shoreline

where their days will one day end.