SONG 2
by Oleh Lysheha, 1989

When I leave this little town
Harmonicas will play all night long...
But I won't be here...
I know that as I sleep
The words I use and the way I walk are pantomimed...
In the square a horse drags a wooden cart full of bread: clack, clack...
Hardened lava underfoot
Makes me take a good hard look
Forces my eyes open...
And I feel that something's afoot
That something has just happened, maybe yesterday...
All that remains is a deep, far-off rumbling...
But before your heart rouses
To the sound,
You must fall asleep
Give into a deep fatigue...
The horse with the wooden cart
Stubbornly fights time:
Clack, clack -- today's fresh bread, warm...
Once I, too, struggled with time...
But it would only grab me in its whirlwind
And spin me high up above the rooftops...
Now I know it's small, contained
Unseen, like the bread in the cart's wooden heart...



translated from the Ukrainian by Virlana Tkacz and Wanda Phipps

lys3.doc 4/23/07

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