excerpt

“Plus the fact that we’re leaving Leningrad tomorrow and I don’t have time to make any such arrangements. We can’t let anybody know about this,” Jennifer said finally, “or I’d be in as much trouble as you.”
“Agreed. But if, by some chance….” His voice sank to that low, penetrating tone again. “If by chance—no, just listen to me.” She had turned away again in frustration. “If you have to get a message to me quickly—if some opportunity presents itself on the Volga cruise—please tell me that you will help. Please.” He apparently took her silence for assent because he went on: “There should be some words we would say in your message. Something that means I can leave the country.”
Unwillingly, she was listening, humouring him. It was as if she were a child playing a spy game. “Okay. All right,” she found herself agreeing. “Some slang phrase that sounds good in English but is not known in Russian.’Exit stage left’?”
“Hmmm, this phrase is unfamiliar. Something about going to hear jazz music, maybe. Jazz with… Ella. That’s it. We’ll go out together to hear jazz with Ella.”
“Okay, I’ll remember that,” she answered reluctantly. “But I’ll only use it if I have to—that is, if something comes up.”
He brightened. “You are amazing, exceptional!” He kissed her deeply, fully, pulling her body closer into his arms. She could feel herself responding with a dangerous warmth that turned her limp.
As quickly, he drew back. “Now, enough of these matters.” Before she could protest, he took an arm and hurried her down the street. “Tonight we go to the jazz restaurant to hear music!”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763246

The Trumpet
Always shining, clean, dusted,
polished trumpet with which he called
the reveille in special gusto and as
solemnly and as officially he called
the raising and lowering of the flag
daily events he took part in, the sound of
trumpet was sometimes sweet and joyous
that his comrades admired and always
praised although this morning’s sound
apocalyptic, sorrowful, and pensive
like a eulogy since the trumpeter
received a letter from home which
informing him that his beloved
Maro got engaged to the fat wallet
of a successful merchant, Maro couldn’t
wait for him, she had to look after
her future, painful thoughts which
came to his mind and reflected in
the trumpet’s pensive mood
this morning that the trumpet mourned
today that nature turned yellow and
the trumpeter felt like a fish out
of water, he who, like most others,
gave so much importance to what
his parents and society had taught him.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763637