The moon is at aphelion.
Ophelia has drowned.
Swaggeringly tut-tutting
on a purple hummock,
affiliated with the forest community
the owl is mirrored in the marsh mud,
resembling a phallus.
It mumbles incoherently
affirmative sentences,
incriminating you
with the murder evidences.
Ruffles its feathers,
acquiring similarities
with the cell frozen during mitosis.
But looking ahead, you develop a confidence
that Rosenkrantz and Guildenstern
will not be able to testify against you,
for the theater of the absurd
rejects deliberate action.
---
Author's translation of the poem "In the thicket" ("В чаще") from Russian into English.
In the thickets
© Copyright: Станислав Диденко, 2017
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