Assizi

by Polina Barskova
translated by Anna Halberstadt

“Only a lazybones got no smell”
Gianni Rodari, translated from the Russian version by Samuil Marshak.

O.

It smells of smoke and of citrus
This is the nature of things
To be a beloved or a no one
To be a no one and be loved
To dream of touching the sun rays
Whose are you?  It’s possible, no one’s
These rays-miraculous-wounds
Had been invented by you
Remnants of childhood abuse
Time is flowing like speech from one’s mouth.
No, it’s impossible, I’m someone’s
No, it’s impossible, yours.
A little lousy flute of wind
Wails along passages and crossings,
It licks the monk’s palm,
Beats against the stones,
It carries and puts out the fire.
It smells of quince and dung,
Of stones, of leaves and dusk,
Of the black monks’ perspiration,
Of a child’s sadness in the night,
Of all I feel ashamed of and desire,
Of a tender, tender wound
That should flourish on a palm,
Full of knowledge, full of warmth.