HER STORY

 I started up the engine and I lingered.
 
 Where should I go? The night was fine, I figured.
 
 The bonnet trembled like a nervous hound.
 
 I shivered.
 Night lit up the houses around.
 
 The Balzac age, I felt its burning pain, 
 Chilled to the bone, I couldn't hold my own.
 
 The age of balsam wine mixed with champaign!.
.
 

 So I looked up, and wound the window down.
 

 They were young, two pretty-pretty fellows, 
 wearing fur coats, looking slightly careless.
 
 "You're free, Miss, aren't you ? Care for delight? 
 Five hundred now.
 One thousand for the night".
 

 I flared up.
 They took me for a prostitute.
 
 My heart was jumping.
 What an attitude! 
 They want you, you're young, you're a whore! 
 Indignant, I said "Yes", instead of "No".
 

 The other one, so "sweet and pure", 
 swaying his hips, looking aside, 
 said: "Have you got a friend, as rich as you are? 
 I, too, will take it.
 A thousand for the night".
 

 The brutes! I thought I'd better vanish! 
 I stepped upon the gas and left the site.
 
 My heart, however, jumped for joy and anguish! 
 "Five hundred now.
 One thousand for the night".


© Copyright Alec Vagapov's translation

Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem |

Poems are below...