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I have not seen my mother for such a long time
that old ladies have started to remind me of her.
Here she is on her way to buy bread,
here she is awaiting the streetcar in the cold,
and here she is in a line at the savings bank.
Her wine-colored winter coat and her
emerald storm coat knows no wear and tear,
the sable collar retaining its stern dignity.
She never recognizes me.
We have not seen each other for ages.
I have changed a great deal.
Translated from the Russian by Philip Nikolayev
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