In memory of my wife,
poet Maria Meranzova
Fingers bloodied by cherry juice,
like an oracle who just slaughtered a bull,
I offer up prophecies... Annihilated by pain,
one man does not tremble... Another, feverish, crosses himself.
A woman without a child, a husband without a wife –
what supports you now, dejected one?
Only for today all the dead are here
but tomorrow all the living will be over there as well.
And she, where is she – yesterday’s woman at my side –
now a light in the light?...
And the stelae erased? Is this a sign from above
which the powerful – the Almighty! – will not hesitate to
erase – along with the future
writings of blind Destiny.
Translated by Ann Diamond