when the wind barely reaches the hot tree…

Transitions №3

Author: Victor Ivaniv

Translated by Tatiana Bonch-Osmolovskaya


when the wind barely reaches the hot tree
and geranium is so small
when a leaf has stuck to a white stem
and the branch seems leathery
you can almost touch it with your hand
and bright lights die on a pier
and pliable deep water seems a dream in the distance
when the heart endures a lot
when into hotness and debris into spittle and loop
into suede and jasper
mud and decay turn
and mica dead body and nest
and twilight melds along the edge of things
and sore eyes of a child want to cry
and birds feed their nestlings with worms
and understand while sleeping
and a blind butterfly shines
when leaves go quiet on the black sky like they’re lost
and a star stops under each of them for a second
or a feeble cross
when mothers as if hiding under cheep
kerchiefs cry under glass
and dahlias hyacinths and no ones’ violets
rattle like cymbals kissed up to transparent blood and peel
when the trees are filled with worms and gnarled
when a branch is thrust into an arm and does not move
when it is so hard to stop and breath
from leaves licked to yellow
to their tree into cut and threatening to fall
a navel is visible of a little one licked and cringing
then flowers blooming on temples are so low inclined and so brittle
and geranium on the windowsill no under the window is so small
is so small