Regina is featured in the current issue of ROCKRGRL magazine. If you're visiting this site, it's probably nothing you haven't heard before--pretty standard press-kit bio stuff--but we do aim for completeness.
Pardon my posting this here, rather than simply e-mailing it to you, but I can't seem to find any contact info - if it's there and I'm being dense, I apologize.
Anyway, if I'm not mistaken the Russian in Apres Moi that you asked for some help with is the first stanza of this poem by Boris Pasternak:
Black spring! Pick up your pen, and weeping, Of February, in sobs and ink, Write poems, while the slush in thunder Is burning in the black of spring.
Through clanking wheels, through church bells ringing A hired cab will take you where The town has ended, where the showers Are louder still than ink and tears.
Where rooks, like charred pears, from the branches In thousands break away, and sweep Into the melting snow, instilling Dry sadness into eyes that weep.
Beneath - the earth is black in puddles, The wind with croaking screeches throbs, And-the more randomly, the surer Poems are forming out of sobs.
Pardon my posting this here, rather than simply e-mailing it to you, but I can't seem to find any contact info - if it's there and I'm being dense, I apologize.
Anyway, if I'm not mistaken the Russian in Apres Moi that you asked for some help with is the first stanza of this poem by Boris Pasternak:
Black spring! Pick up your pen, and weeping,
Of February, in sobs and ink,
Write poems, while the slush in thunder
Is burning in the black of spring.
Through clanking wheels, through church bells ringing
A hired cab will take you where
The town has ended, where the showers
Are louder still than ink and tears.
Where rooks, like charred pears, from the branches
In thousands break away, and sweep
Into the melting snow, instilling
Dry sadness into eyes that weep.
Beneath - the earth is black in puddles,
The wind with croaking screeches throbs,
And-the more randomly, the surer
Poems are forming out of sobs.
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