Nikolai Baitov
Translated by J. Kates
As Usual
I As usual, on the terrace I fly to you, an idle dream. And here I am, composing verse, Babbling a funny rhyme. Dumb, my inspiration scatters. Random, sidelong jumpy thoughts. A hurried rainfall lightly patters above me like a herd of goats. II As usual, on the terrace I put together an old puzzle. Are you really, let me guess, indifferent to my razzle-dazzle? I'm memorizing empty stains and read the welcome hieroglyphs precisely and succinctly limning your explicit bas relief. III As usual, on the terrace I drink vodka - neither glee nor fire - heaping loss on loss - anywhere in the cards for me . I don't catch cause and consequence. You know better. We - alas - Meletsky sings, Meletsky stings - "The heart wins nothing with an ace." IV As usual, on the terrace I'm watching where a spider lives, Beautiful and mysterious in its home beneath the eaves. Off to the side it's built a web out of its own silken pathways And there is someone I'm expecting. Am I crazy? - Please don't say. V As usual, on the terrace a wild grape glows on the vine, From time to time the shadows race along the notebook in my hand. A trembling of golden spots puts fear into the lines I write. Noon lingers, and the garden breathes a torrid smell of creosote. VI As usual, on the terrace saying nothing, drifting off - In turbid thoughts completely lost . . . Night tossed and turned. A little draft. A spruce was playing with a cherry, a pine confounded with an elm. And night passed along to me The distant sound of an alarm.