Author: Yevgeny Yevtushenko

Superb, Like a seasoned lion, Neruda buys bread in the shop. He asks for it to be wrapped in paper […]

No monument stands over Babi Yar. A drop sheer as a crude gravestone. I am afraid. Today I am as […]

Like a reminder of this life Of trams, sun, sparrows, And the flighty uncontrolledness Of streams leaping like thermometers, And […]