Kholodnaya Voyna

You must admit that you have put me in a terriblePosition—I am in love with you and willLove you until the world becomes coldIn fear of my love; I am only twenty-two, young,I know that soon you will be old and toothless,But nonetheless, my love will continue, stubbornly, simply—

For I met you, simply—In a classroom (I am sure I looked terrible)Speaking Russian like a baby, my words, dripping, toothless—But of course I had the will to learn, and I have the willTo love—despite the fact that I am youngAnd you are (like Moscow in the winter) hopelessly cold

Yet what must one do to combat the cold?Stay inside, wear layers, clench bodies—contain it, simply.And I believe the winter of our love is quite youngFlurries falling like baby teeth from the sky, not terrible—But it is you, the Slavic God of Winter, whose obstinacy willStop let the sky's smile become gummy and toothless.

I understand that this poem to you is ineffectual, toothless,As you are attached and married to that cold"Beautiful" weasel of a woman (who speaks broken English) and willBirth two half-weasel half-lovely children, (who will simplyGrow up to be absolutely terrible)—Wouldn't you want more for your young?

And me? I am still quite young,American, fertile, vulnerable, though my words are toothless—I am not yet disenchanted by my world I am not yet terrible,I have not let the sun dry my brain, nor have I allowed the coldTo smother my choices, to ruin my day, simply:I have freedoms I have desires that I will

Pursue at will—The country of my love is still fresh and youngDon't you see? Unlike Russia, who continues to simplyTrudge along, still beautiful, but bruised, tired, nearly toothlessI know that you are centuries older than me, but you are not coldTo the youth, to the freedom of my love! Am I so terrible

(So terrible) that you cannot love me at will?During the Cold War, I was but a child, still youngToothless, rebellious, but I am warmer now, and will continue on, simply.