IT WOULD NEVER HAPPEN TO INDIANS
The ground - still wet from the afternoon shower. Each little grass-blade
persistently returns the raindrops to the sky.
Having overheard this harmless dialogue, we failed to notice
the nightfall - suddenly it was there, between two cups of tea.
[THE BOAT WAS PACKED FULL...]
THE BOAT WAS PACKED FULL,
the coast deserted, soon to be lost from sight.
We were rowing for hours,
we were departing and arriving.
[Unfathomable, just like when I rinse the dirty dishes in the warm...]
Unfathomable, just like when I rinse the dirty dishes in the warm, gushing water,
put them aside to dry, and my face is aglow with happiness.
With an unmeant easiness I open the window to let in the fresh morning air.
The water is boiling, and from the silvery box I add four teaspoons of coffee.
My tongue falls out of my mouth
my tongue falls out of my mouth
it is no longer a tongue, it is a huge calf's liver
of the calf we slaughtered yesterday
YOU, WITH YOUR HAIR SWINGING LEFT-RIGHT
They don't allow me to read on the tram, especially you, with your hair swinging
You're tossing it onto the page I am reading, splaaash, all the words vanish
and I have to look up at you.
Early in the morning a naked woman kneels on the kitchen floor praying
Early in the morning a naked woman kneels on the kitchen floor praying.
The smoke from the heating plant rises steadily.
A soprano from Schnittke's madrigal interferes with the voice of the potato vendor coming from the street.
The chill descends to the root of a plant