Inna Kulishova

Wind. The leaves were invoking "Adonis! Adonis!"

Get away! From the life, from the death and from all this.

From embraces, resentments, the binding existence.

Wind. Such impact that life cannot offer resistance.

I"m not fearing death. But afraid, it has no the Word.

And my dread"s alone like the suffering Job incurred.

It"s more lethal and darker than a night in the sands.

I keep walking. And gone are forever my friends.

Loneliness is the largest of things. And more fair.

Like soothsayers who toil through the empty Judaea,

so are my thoughts in the night, on the similar roads.

Will I have any time to be seeing the God?

There are no footprints on this way. No mirrors or shade.

Only blowing wind that"s forcing my body to shake.

I am hurling to him my tears and unbearable strain.

Dust is flying like ashes from the Books of Sibylline.

Thus eternity ends. Washed away by its echo

there is silence. Have a look back again, Sulamith.

What is left nowadays of once flowering groves?

Get away! As if from heaven and hell, from your hopes.

Night is clearer than dream. I am alone. Over here,

high above bedroom, night, is more silent, more real -

loneliness. It is smothering my pain with despair.

Time is passing. Inside me. With me, in a pair.