Yuliana Novikova
Translated by Philip Nikolayev
* * * I, who used to deny the thorns in this bed of roses, Setting a fine example, now redefine what "morose" is, Sitting in the street with a bloodied nose like a zombie, Neither id nor money on me. "Clueless Airhead," says the stamp across my forehead, Aptly placed there by some random angelic herald. And how long do I have to practice silent science Before my silence becomes eternal silence? * * * What's this strange route, Where to? One last Time wait a bit And all will pass. The flowers in farewell colors Will fade, alas. Why would you sigh about this? You will not pass. * * * I see with perfect precision But hear as if through a dream Sand ticking in the glass wherein It is imprisoned. At times it flows like water, At other times falls with a din, It'll knock on my door tomorrow, But I won't let it in. May it cover this mess, Step on heads without grieving. Folk, too, go to excess Yet are forgiven, forgiving.
A Vision
A vision climbs the staircase of eyelashes Of certain distant towns, of certain squares Where we enter at night a night establishment To sit alone a bit among some squares Who care not much who serves them at the bar Or whether we two are strangers here or locals: They've been here a long time, eyed such numbers That they feel neutral, if not antisocial. Let's sit down a bit by the transcendent Window and get some simple food and drink. Behind each shutter we remark the brink Of heaven, the abyss transparent. What can we tell each other to save those lost in the dark, stuck in the night's plain air? All is over. Goodbye. Farewell. Until our next Reunion. Soon. We're almost there. * * * 1 Another's shadow overlaps with mine, So I no longer recognize my own. It quickly changes, turns alienated, Stops following me, so I feel slightly hated. May my poor shadow be lead to its peace By some kind unknown hand, oh pretty please. I forgive without a shade of regret and without a shade of regret betray it. 2 The houses are all wrong, the streets are wrong, And the wrong words show on the poster. I hear another's voice in the dark but fail to hear My own internal voice. Absent so long, No, it hasn't gone awol or into hiding, But by reason of its constant protestation It up and out and disappeared past finding, Having thus changed its name and switched location.