First Ice

A girl freezes in a telephone booth
in her draughty overcoat hides
a face all smeared
in tears and lipstick 
she breathes on her thin palms.
Her fingers are icy. She wears earrings.

She'll have to go home, alone.
Along the icy street.

First ice. It is the first time.
The first ice of telephone phrases.

Frozen tears glitter on her cheeks-
the first ice of human hurt. 

                By Andrei Voznesenski


Gaby's opinion:
The poem is about uncertainty and anguish that the girl feels because she was calling her boyfriend for first time in an icy night.