outside

an old poem

outside the window, spring arrives in silence,
while the cold finds refuge here, with me.
somewhere beyond, my peace has slipped away,
fading through my tired, restless fingers.

now it's gone, and I am left alone
to face these troubled thoughts, these aching memories.
how many trials can I endure?
I don't know, as the flame slowly fades.

my blanket offers no relief—
this longing's icy shards pierce my heart.
it crept in quietly, without a sound.
I wish it would forever lose my address.

I open doors and windows wide,
hoping warmth might come to visit,
finally thawing my weary soul,
reviving the fire that once burned in my eyes.

Author’s note: found a poem I wrote a few years ago that I thought was kind of relevant to my current state, so I’ve translated it to the best of my abilities from the original Russian it was written in.

[Cover art by Jasper Francis Cropsey]