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Poem by Mary Hobson

Another Winter in Zaraisk

 For Marina, with love.

At 42, on Freedom Street,
how shall I say  its less than neat.
It wouldnt pass a test. But thats
because of three rambunctious cats.
What gives it dignity and status
is that its home to two translators
who sit and read and write and then,
next day, go at it all again.

At 42, on Freedom Street,
Shakespeare and Pushkin, they compete.
It is the cultural centre of
Zaraisk, you know. Forget Tambov.
Its warm and welcoming and low,
besieged by scintillating snow.
New Russians would despair of it.
I wouldnt change a hair of it.

Mary Hobson

Mary Hobson's other poems:
  1. Laundry Blues
  2. The Counsellors
  3. Summer in Zaraisk or Who wrote Shakespeare?
  4. Now I will always know that you died
  5. Waterloo Station

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