Road Song

in the oblivion between the trees
the lyric attacks by dogs
at the end of an endless trip
night turns all the keys of gold
but no door opens for you

a lantern follows
the ancient principles of winter
I walk straight toward you
as you open the fan of history
that’s folded in an isolated song

the evening bell slowly questions you
echoes answer for you twice
dark night sails against the current
tree roots secretly generating electricity
have lit your orchard

I walk straight toward you
at the head of all the foreign roads
when fire tries on the heavy snow
sunset seals the empire
the earth’s book turns the page of this moment

Tribute
00000000 to Gennady Aygi

intricacies of paper-cuts of snow
the city in deep flame–
around the stars fishing for dreamers
you sail the sharp bend of the river
you ballast words

songs of the Mother spread everywhere

a storm screams in a kettle–
the homeland is leaving from the platform
open your window
this moment leads the days of the past
like wild geese heading south

the field, your sadness

on the queue for kerosene
you jump into the darkness with the others
the guttural age cries out:
perhaps it is destiny perhaps
the isolation of a trumpet

moment resonant

Mother Russia
a long night flowing from your pen
a heavy snow covering the cemeteries
the forest waits to be logged
as melancholic as the ax

Reading History

hostile dew in an uprising of plum blossoms
guards the darkness etched by the noon sword
a revolution begins the following morning
the bitterness of the widows cuts through the tundra like a pack of wolves

on account of the prophecies the ancestors are moving 00000000backward
into that river of the furious debates of faith and desire
that never end, only a hermit swirl
learns another silence of meditation

go up to see the sunset of kingship
when civilization and flute songs float off in an empty valley
the seasons stand up in the ruins
fruits climb over the walls to chase tomorrow