Sergey Sokolov

Save me, God, from the silver’s cold lace,
And from gold’s flame – without good reason.
I knew not and don’t know a grace
That is better than storm’s rain and blizzard.

They don’t want me to take other way,
To look different from year to year.
Let me twinkle some time with my gray
Midst my people, so golden and dear.

It is awful – all life to make flight
From the answer from deeps of your soul,
To be single – but ever to write
Just a poet that’s different in whole.


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, August, 2001