WB (1948 / TX)


'Natasha, Natasha, ' cried Old Grandmother,
'Run, call the geese, draw water from the river,
Because the moon is rising over the mountains.'
Natasha spilled the river-water, left her waterfowl forgotten;
She hid in the dark pines,
Shying from frantic moonbeams.

Then Natasha wept.
There were no angels, nothing;
There was no relief:
Her tears were completely foolish.
Then Natasha knew that nothing is forbidden.

'Natasha, ' cried Old Grandmother, 'Where are you gone?
Wicked girl, do you not feel the moon? '


User Rating: 5,0 / 5 ( 2 votes ) 3

Comments (3)

Great job Will. I could see this scene on the movie screen with period costumes and magically shot by moonlight but I don't need to see it on cinema. It's all there - clearly shown between the lines.
You touch something deep and inexplicable within us with this kind of work Will... Like any quality work of art the reader has to take time over it, has to think, feel, let go of the everyday, to get close to what's central in it... there is also something strangely therapeutic in some of your poems..... Another very special piece. jim
Feels like a translation of a medieval folk tale. Unique. -c