Autumn diptych

(translation of Лученко Святослава "Осінній диптих")

I

Fog covers meadows with a white sheet. Outlines of willows appear here and there in the moist dimness, subdued above the river, still constrained by before-dawn sleep. This sleep, as if kissel shrouds the soul of surrounded world, cools air, makes the desire powerless in elevation and for flying up somewhere, to unexplored space. An autumn whispers: “Pretty soon... almost… October...” And because of these words the whole surrounding is indeed dousing, withering, and slowly goes to sleep.
Her barefoot feet are barely touching still green, and thickly covered by the hoarfrost grass. Cold scatters her body, leaving a “goose skin”, which looks like shallow waves, lifted by a wind from the surface of a dove-colored river... She breathes with this wind and listens to his songs, allows him to play with the hair... Free wind catches the lost ideas and intertwines them with canvas of autumn’s Sadness, it sparks like valuable crystals in golden braids of Autumn.
She’s late Summer alike - colorful and aromatic, attractive with the serenity of moist evenings, with the mysterious reflection of a sun, when it hides the last rays into crimson horizon. Her warmth pierces every tiny stem, every flower around, as though they desire for the last time to get a drink of life from her hands, to inhale hot air, heated by the Energy of Her Love – to all of living, to Earth and Sky, to the world of Days and Nights where a particle of her Soul is in.
Now She stands on the bank of Endless Autumn and breathes with its essence. Free and mighty as wind, strong and impertinent, as a thundershower that takes by a surprise and covers quiet herbages with millions of petty tears. Those tears of hope, sorrow and rebirth glitter with silver dews on meadows, spill charms on a vision, while appeasing Earth’s thirst. And She strides with effortless steps, as though She flies above the space of her Expectation which echoes in the heart of Sky with a thunder. Listening: “Who are you... Where are you..?” Crazy-clouds fly and ring to themselves with thunders, somewhere not far away from Her. Light up a brow and answer afterwards: “Uhhhhhh!!!!... Fly with us there, where treasures of your Heart are hidden! Westward!”... Light grin – no, I will not fly, because I’m wandering there on foot - every second, daily and nightly... But the Western horizon relentlessly flees into obscurity, and when It seems near – the shroud of night covers it, hiding from me in the mysterious Snares. And then the only one thing is left for me - to go back to a warm hidden place, cover up myself with the blanket of dreams and wait... wait... till He, so tart and hot, will visit my sleep and convert the breathing space of Autumn Sorrow into Flame.

II

Autumn ignited a fire on the border of night, swaddled a lake and forest with the grey stripes of smoke, walked up quietly and whispered sorrowfully invocation of sleep:” In your eyes sorrows will meet, wind will be playing with your dreams...Sleep... Go to sleep... ” I feel dizzy, ideas are melting as light clouds and taken over-the-horizon of my consciousness, the autumn world loses a distance and disappears in the cold and moist fog. Indifference... Sleep... Oblivion... Ringing… The moan of midnight voice of Bell Tower tears the soul – it’s a deep, boundless clang as if from inside of your heart, beats a painful reminder in temples: “Where’re you? Where, where..? Far awayyyy!!!!” “Remember, … remembeeeer!” “Do not forgeeeet..!” And gusty winds are seething around you and moans of the winds are catching in a whirlwind your words and rain becomes tears, and tears – a rain... And the drops of your despair knock, they knock in a window-pane... into It... so far... so... close…

An autumn entangled her braids,
she fixed her bed for yellow sleep,
for something, what is warm and deep
and hot from Lover’s sweaty raids…
all morning...
it will be late again
to brake “the same”, to hold insane… -
so share your venom, Autumn, strand...
but give a chance to feel His hand…

Long night... Dark water, alarmed by wind, waves at the bank of Expectation... Here’s an incredibly sunny-colored boat, which shines, rocks, barely sparkles in the light of a distant lantern. It’s strange... Where’s that one, who will unlock a lock and give me oars to swim to you, give wings – to fly up, to voyage and, ignoring the storm, reach Your coast?
And again silence strikes on strings of the loosened perception, nervous vibe strikes through fingers... ”More, more...” Leaves rustle instead, and fall striped-burning out on the ground... ”More, more...” Toothless darkness mumbles. ”Look for him, look...” And her Soul’s embraced with grey wings of weakness, patterns of acacia leaves above her head whimsically decorate a celestial background... To rush, there, into Our Summer, to the warm kiss, that the wind brought on lips...
No, to roam the moist forest, searching Our Paths which conduce to log Cabin, to the hearth, to the white bed, to the blanket which covered Unity, to the walls which saw Tenderness and Power...and heard Family’s Voices...
I want to approach that place with the distance of a step! At least for a moment! I want to breathe the potion scent ...of herbages... You know how that aromatic beauty is… It knows how long it takes to reach you.
Again echo… the distant ringing melts. Autumn confession of night was ended on the verge of sleep. Or maybe it ends with the journey...To you… of Someone who Knows about you... who desires you... Listen to its voice around, when autumn wind squeezes a heart with the long melody of sorrow.

1 October 2007

Iouri Lazirko
Copyright ©2007 Iouri Lazirko