Transitions №6
Translated by Kirill Frolov
* * *
Across the river barges are towed. I notice I’m getting old.
Across the river a swallow dashes, I watch it through greying eyelashes.
As I stand on the earth on my feet I swallow the morsel I eat
and so as to relish the flavor I ask the Lord for a favor.
Not even having finished the dish, I toss the crumbs to the birds and the fish.
As I’m bypassing the piers, I ruefully count my years.
All my desires and lust all too soon will turn into dust.
And soon my lips and my hips will get into Mother Earth’s grips.
But far away in the upper light my wordless soul might feel less tight.
What will become of it over there in heaven? A slut or a saint, a swallow or a raven?
It will no more be homeless, I mean it, not for a minute.
They say that the merciful Lord will take every creature on board,
so if you were born from water and spirit, don’t fear it,
for in stratosphere or nearer
everyone will find their relief according to their belief.
At autopsy:
“You?” – “No!
You know,
I’m now where death doesn’t reign.”
“Is that where calm will flow
And sacrifice isn’t worth the pain?”
“It’s where the source of the surge is
That lifts you beyond the skies,
From blood of the earth emerges
An echo of paradise.”
“Is there the sun forever,
And there will never be night?…”
“Oh, yes, you are right. However,
The dark forestalls the light!..”
“I really don’t see how you’ll get on
Now that you’re eternal!” “But then
I want my own heaven,
For that I will die again…”
* * *
How do I know how
You will return to me?
By an echo, a book, a dry flower?
By a leaf leaving a tree?
By a mountain view, chilly dew,
By a sunset’s last rays, by my only son’s face?
I don’t know, so just in case
I simply take all for you.