Читать книгу This Carting Life - Rustum Kozain - Страница 15

Walking home with Mandelstam

Bowling Green, Ohio

This sky placates no single crag;

no rock, no stone, but sods that lie

ploughed and turned and hard and black.

Snow patters like stars on my hood.

My breath is yours from Leningrad,

Osip, barefoot, walking ahead.

Crows rise against the falling flakes.

Underfoot, fresh snow crunches like flak

in black-and-white films with battleships.

Learning to walk the ice comes slow

like permanent revolutions

in their cold glut of time,

but I know I am walking home

through second snow

with Osip Mandelstam.