Rust By Yulia Drunina

I was loving your laugh and your voice, I was fighting for soul of yours. But that soul was so alien, really, But that soul had a rust instead filling. Love was telling: "So, what, I'm missing, I'll destroy rust of soul, it's easy". There were tempests and calm and silence, There were fires of rootless violence, But, you know, in that violent fire I was burning alone, I'm tired. Rust stayed rust, there's no other filling And that soul is still alien, really... P.S. This is my translation of poem by Yulia Drunina