Let’s not... <br /> Everything’s ghostly- <br /> the blank windows watching, <br />the snow reddening behind the stoplights of the cars. <br />Let’s not... <br /> Everything’s ghostly, lost in mist, <br />like a garden in March emptied of men and women, <br /> paraded by shadows. <br />Let’s not... <br /> I stand by a tree, <br /> not speaking, undeceiving, facing <br /> the double glare of the headlights, <br />and with a quiet hand touch <br /> but do not break <br />the tender icicle imprisoning a twig. <br />Let’s not... <br /> I see you in the sleepy, reeling trolley <br />with spectral Moscow rocking in the window, <br />your cheek propped on a child’s wool mitten, <br />thinking of me with a woman’s rancor. <br />Let’s not... <br /> You’ll be a woman soon enough, subtle and worn, <br />hungry for praise, for the balm of a caress; <br />it will be March again, <br /> a callow boy will whisper in your ear, <br />your head will whirl inconsolably. <br />Let’s not... <br /> for both your sakes, <br />don’t stroll with him down the slippery path, <br />don’t place <br /> your insubordinate hands <br />upon his shoulders, <br /> even as I do not place them today. <br />Let’s not... <br /> Oh, disbelieve, like me, in the ghostly city. <br />Be spared <br /> from waking in the wasteland, terrified. <br />Say: 'Let’s not...' <br /> bending your head, <br />as I this moment <br /> say 'Let’s not...' to you... <br /> <br /> <br />1960 <br />Translated by Stanley Kunitz with Anthony Kahn<br /><br />Yevgeny Yevtushenko<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/let-s-not/
