Tuesday, 12 June 2012

Along the embankment, along the bridge, along
the whole soul, lined by the rainstorm,
the wind strains point-blank
at the gulf that got wild overnight.

White clouds race under black clouds,
snagging on sparkling spires,
and the flung open river
stirs chains like a shaman.

Oh my soul, freeze in this foul weather,
on the bridges along their railings,
and witch-like stir into me
this night, this north, this water.

There is such womanhood in these splashes
that it will yet lead me to suicide,
and it will suddenly open in the sad Baltic Grail
like an emptiness.

- Leonid Aronzon

Picture: "Out of the Rain, Iran" by Kian Elyassi Bakhtiari (2006).

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