I dearly, dearly long to be with you,
to sit and chat with you, drink tea with you.
You’d do the talking – I would be all ears;
your voice grows ever dearer with the years.
You, too, knew grief and fury and disdain;
you, too, died slowly, slowly and in pain.
by Георгий Владимирович Иванов (Georgii Vladimirovich Ivanov)
by Robert Chandler