Поэтовы затменья /Не предугаданы календарем.
М. Цветаева
A touch of moondust
The dogs howl death away
The last bullet fired.
— — —
My words are unknown
to the majority winds
up the sky-path
— — —
Hey, you. The steps
Leading to my garden of Youth
Have grown old.
— — —
Yes, behold it.
Right on the field of your vision
The whitest snowflake.
—- —- —- —-
Wherever there is a light
a chance to walk—
onto the unknown. Into the void
My right hand knows not
what my left hand hath done.
I Forgot — this is a slogan—
you walk by day
day in day out.
Today I forgot my name.
I wrote it in wind
that went away far
over my house.
I forgot,
winds have paths
different from ours.
In different hours,
Winds
Go past.
—- —- —- —-
I lost my name
All the connections gone
I start out afresh.
— — —
One of us goes mad
Soon enough the snows
Will cover the summer
— — —
We forget those days
That build finest pictures
unseen
Then we remember.
Beyond my vision
Black swans in wintry fields.
How I long for spring.
— — —
I refuse to take
The roar of autumn leaving.
My steps so heavy.
—- —- —- —-
Go out into the night.
Night waits outside—
Every step will lead
further, into unknown
paths of dead leaves
lives, thrown into winds
lives, out-lived,
now feeding this earth.
— — —
Earth always is hungry.
Every step
Leads deeper into Earth’s stomach.
— — —
No-one survives
at the end of this
path of the fallen
leaves
— — —
Go out and behold—
The path, once taken
will go
beyond, outside, without
you knowing or
taking part
