Like Being a Child

 Like being a child and an enormous insult  is pulled over your head like a sack;  through the sack’s stitches you catch a glimpse of the sun  and hear the cherry trees humming. But this doesn’t help, the great affront  covers your head and torso and knees  and though you move sporadically  you can’t take pleasure in the spring. Yes, shimmering wool hat, pull it down over the face  and stare through the weave.  On the bay, water-rings teem soundlessly.  Green leaves are darkening the land.

Two Cities

 Each on its own side of a strait, two cities  one plunged into darkness, under enemy control.  In the other the lamps are burning.  The luminous shore hypnotizes the blacked-out one. I swim out in a trance  on the glittering dark waters.  A muffled tuba-blast breaks in.  It’s a friend’s voice, take your grave and go.

The Light Streams In

 Outside the window is spring’s long animal,  the diaphanous dragon of sunshine  flowing past like an endless  commuter train — we never managed to see its head. The seaside villas scuttle sideways  and are as proud as crabs.  The sun causes the statues to blink. The raging conflagration out in space  is transforming into a caress.  The countdown has begun.

Night Travel

 It’s teeming under us. Trains depart.  Hotel Astoria trembles.  A glass of water by the bedside  shines into the tunnels. He dreamed he was imprisoned on Svalbard.  The planet rumbled as it turned.  Glittering eyes passed over the ice.  The miracles’ beauty existed.

Haiku Poems

 I  The high-tension lines  taut in cold’s brittle kingdom  north of all music.
Вы читаете Sorrow Gondola
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