Poem by Mary Hobson

Another Winter in Zaraisk…

 For Marina, with love.

At 42, on Freedom Street,
how shall I say – it’s less than neat.
It wouldn’t pass a test. But that’s
because of three rambunctious cats.
What gives it dignity and status
is that it’s 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.
It’s warm and welcoming and low,
besieged by scintillating snow.
New Russians would despair of it.
I wouldn’t change a hair of it.

1. The Counsellors
2. Now I will always know that you died
3. Snow in Zaraisk
4. Meditations on Marcus Aurelius
5. The pain’s the same size as the love

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