. Here’s a translation of an obscure Russian poem that I completed five years ago. Although the translation takes a few liberties, I hope these help capture something of the playfulness of the original. I found this poem in the great anthology Poetry of the Silver Age (Поэзия Серебряного века) published in Moscow by EKSMO in 2002. . Lift . by Sergei Tretyakov . You in darkness read, like a cat, Small print on snowdrifts. Vertical is our common path, The singsong lift. Just us two in this mobile pantry. We’ll flirt! Don’t flinch, with a gaze that’s stingy, From the wreath of myrtle. After all, you know, at… Read More »Translation of “Lift” by Sergei Tretyakov