Trafika Europe 13 - Russian Ballet

Aleksandr Kushner

In the first century everything was supposed to end, And a different everything was supposed to begin. But it didn’t end. Rivers flowed just the same, And tears flowed from eyes, just the same‒like a river. For some reason the Day of Judgment was postponed, Ships sailed the seas their same old way, Changing tack with the shifting wind, In hot, white foam, like horses in lather. Man loves what is close by, does not wish evil, Believes in salvation, and awaits his Messiah A month, a year, but then grows weary, mutters, And sinks under grief‒like us in Russia. Or is it that God became so inured to earthly sorrow, Grew so enamored of the Earth’s beauty, that he came To place it ahead of morality, and is now Walking behind us on the same path through the forest?

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