Y. Kukin, A Township \ Ю. Кукин, Город (subs by V. Chetin)

Tribute to Yuri Kukin
Faraway mountains, nebulous mountains, mountains;
Flying away into haze, disappearing snow.
Maybe, you know, there's a township somewhere, a township;
You may remember, this town's not for all, not for all.
Folks of a curious kind populate the whole township:
Their ideas are odd, and their parlance is odd,
To all the talks they prefer but argumentations,
Out of there, leading anywhere, there's not a road.
Rather than ceilings, those folks have above but heaven,
Rather than cozy apartments, they've sweethearts' hands.
Me, I have never entered this township, never,
Me, I have always looked for it without success.
Each time it hurts, they start laughing rather than weeping,
They have good wines, when they're enjoying themselves.
Hair of women, hair of women is waving,
And lack of comfort replaces conveniences there.
I walked along, now and then, through this very township.
I should have seen it and, anyhow, didn't note.
And being silent and keeping a conversation,
I walked along it and left, never coming across.
Not on a train! By railway, I cannot get there.
Nor by air can I get to this town, all the more.
Shivering mirage-like, echo-like, it will answer.
And I will find it, I want, and I've got to want.