Trafika Europe 13 - Russian Ballet

Aleksandr Kushner

The garden’s freshness was there in the room. A window was opened wide to the night. The rain murmured‒delightful, cool. The dark was just slightly bitter, like wine. One could make out an apple tree By the angular lines of its branches. And under it, a wheelbarrow, two shovels, The circle of soil at its base, moisture, abundance! I’ve always thought that I am not worthy Of this life: but what’s our flattery to it? And breathing the dark, the rich scent in small gulps, I see that, yes, that is how it is.

I hadn’t decided about the mosquitoes‒ Turn on a light and they swoop in. Having gathered my robe, I stretched My hand toward the sash in the dark,

Then changed my mind‒better to sit awhile Without a light, without a book, stay just like this,

Have a smoke to make it easier To survive this trial by happiness.

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