Trafika Europe 7 - Ukrainian Prayer

Maria Matios

in Mykhailo’s hand, her hard, almost maidenly breast, and that Christmas horn first became alarming like the rumbling of flood water, then frenzied like a man next to a woman he finds desirable…. Sometimes after their daily chores, late in the evening, Mykhailo and Matronka went to the meadow, let their legs dangle from the dam, and listened either to themselves, or to the mountains’ chilly breathing and the water’s turbulent gurgling. They lean their heads against each other – and remain silent, they just toy with each other’s hot fingers, and maybe just for a moment Matronka places her head onto her husband’s knees – they listen… and keep listening. And there, on the other side, some tipsy gazda ’s feet stagger – and he’ll shout

across the river to the same kind of tipsy guy, who’s on his way back from Kapetuter’s tavern; the whistle could be heard in both Cheremoshnes: “And what, gazda , are you going to yer girl this evenin’?” “Why wouldn’t I go?!” “Does Mr. gazda have a darling?” “I do, may she stay healthy.” “May yours stay as healthy as mine, because I also have a darling; she’s tasty as sour cream.” “Mr. Domnul, woulds you trade yer darlin’ for mine? Mebbe mine is even tastier?” “Mebbe I’d trade her just one time, but not more.” “So let’s make a trade tonight.” “Go make the trade. Catch up with me.”

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