By Anzhelina Polonskaya My countries and landssend your nights out for profit.O, White Sea nets,I am your fish.It’s over. Let all whom I lovedbe forgiven.I’ve lost the wordsor they’ve been burnt.Maybe the fishermen willrelease me into that cursed sea,looking into my eyes –With my fins, I’ll shield the boatfrom the white waves,and swim instinctivelyto the […]