Pokemon Silver Switches

Bakhyt Kenzeev

1.

There is a star in heaven and earth wires.
From God - tears and sweat.
Run, my night, where no one knows about
rays of postal affairs.
And wanders through the square, crying in vain
like an angel in a gray cloak -
down to the dock, walk inside me
and wipes his throat with ice water.
Ah! Remote mostricciattolo the heavenly family, called
where and why?
to count the stars in the black stream,
where a dead fish float? In the long
still obeying him, in exchange for his art

vain attempt to move the crude knapsack
grown in the ground -
and still wakes up, poor and naked,
where God has laid his hands
where the city stands on the hills , waves
gritted and rocky mountains.

2. We go out

- midnight is with us. The lights almost furtively

disperse
circles in the small city center. Just
discuss with destiny,
drinking green wine,
top of many windows
it burns dim one.
It 's the who, happily intrigued
shadow of the moon on the wall, silent vigil
laborer
crumpled on the sheet?
huge drain of death, only to work

ocean of stars, which flow from the horizon and everywhere
.
rustle of leaves in the alley,
smell of bread and earth.
is heard echoing long and only a whisper away
of the Lord. A voice
clouded for no reason,
the penultimate chapter,
only the words are indecipherable, illegible
words.

3. A height

so amazing,
you want to breathe a sigh: stop,
moment, beloved, rebel ... But
cools the throat the sweet terror, and a strange
hawk with a dove between claws
hurtling down the abyss of air,
and swell the clouds in the sky,
like bread in a bowl of milk,
and the mountains, frozen, if not
reach the stars, that deadly layer that
divides the world into empty and full.
silent earth, and under him the dead. And the light
squints incredulously
the unknown wanderer, knowing that no place in the steppes
nor the Jewish miracle worker, nor
Hellenism in the mouth with a coin.
And the mountains are revealed naked,
howling, crying, uncontrollably, as if the spirit
metal silver
their bets on the tracks of blood,
as if the mercury in the rocky cliff
was ready to flow, flow without end,
linen that his girlfriend from dark face
the street does not remove the blanket.
a bonfire was burning, I will warm us the finger, and behold the heavens deserts, and
whizzing within them, and sobbed
flying through the clouds, the irreversible drought, leafing through the book
sull'amaro taste of the wilderness
Russian in its binding stuttering.


(Translated from Russian by Maria Cicognani Wolkonsky)