Arman

Add To collaction

HER STORY




HER STORY - Andrei Voznesensky

 I started up the engine and I lingered. 
   Where should I go? The night was fine, I figured. 
   The bonnet trembled like a nervous hound. 
   I shivered. Night lit up the houses around. 
   The Balzac age, I felt its burning pain, 
   Chilled to the bone, I couldn't hold my own. 
   The age of balsam wine mixed with champaign!.. 
     
   So I looked up, and wound the window down. 
     
   They were young, two pretty-pretty fellows, 
   wearing fur coats, looking slightly careless. 
   "You're free, Miss, aren't you ? Care for delight? 
   Five hundred now. One thousand for the night". 
     
   I flared up. They took me for a prostitute. 
   My heart was jumping. What an attitude! 
   They want you, you're young, you're a whore! 
   Indignant, I said "Yes", instead of "No". 
     
   The other one, so "sweet and pure", 
   swaying his hips, looking aside, 
   said: "Have you got a friend, as rich as you are? 
   I, too, will take it. A thousand for the night". 
     
   The brutes! I thought I'd better vanish! 
   I stepped upon the gas and left the site. 
   My heart, however, jumped for joy and anguish! 
   "Five hundred now. One thousand for the night".




   0
0 Comments