April 1, 2017 in the city of Tulsa (State Oklahoma, USA) died poet Yevgeny Yevtushenko. In spite of his heavy health condition, he kept on working in the hospital on the final chapter of his latest book. According to poet’s close friend, honoured consul of Belarus in America, the Head of the fund “Spiritual Diplomacy”, Michael Morgulis, “novel is not autobiographic although,it contains many personal reminiscences of Yevtushenko, feelings, emotions, documentary events from the life.” TASS remembers the most famous poems which are known to everybody.

“Snow flakes are falling

   sliding round and round…

   I would keep living… always…

   but I probably can’t.


   Human souls fade dissolving

   and leaving no trace,

   like snowflakes they’re going

   from earth into space.


   Snow flakes are falling…

   Some day I shall go…

   About death I’m not worrying

   I’m mortal, I know.


   I do not believe in

   any miracles, no,

   and I’ll never be living,

   unlike snow, anymore.


   A sinner, I’m thinking

   who on earth I have been,

   what is most I’ve been keen on,

   in this world I live in.


   It’s Russia that I love so

   with my backbone, my blood,

   its rivers when iced, or

   when lively they flood.


   its spirit of houses,

   its spirit of pines,

   its Pushkin and Razin,

   its old men, so kind.


   And in my hours of worry

   I didn’t take it too bad.

   I may’ve lived in a flurry,

   I’ve lived for my land.


   Deep in heart, feeling anxious,

   I hope against hope

   that I did help my Russia

   to the extent I could cope.


   It may once and for ever

   forget me, with ease,

   but I wish it would never

   ever cease to exist.


   Snowflakes are falling,

   as they do at all times,

   times of Pushkin and Razin

   and the time that yet comes.


   Sliding like crystal beads,

   light and bright as can be,

   flakes wipe out the footprints

   left by others and me.


   I do not believe in.

   immortality… well…

   If Russia keeps living

   I’ll keep living as well.” (1965)

translated by Alec Vagapov

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