The top

by Yury Milorava
translated by Anna Halberstadt

The top,
too much, too Chicago…

And the city
will not reveal it completely,
when antimony,
like morning dew,
vertically…
he
thinking,—
only freshness
could replace itself. . .
on the same—
angle,—
a needle—imperial pen-could.
Form him to comprehend:
«Carthaginem
delendam esse.»

The view…a hundred years after the wall breaking machines and
the fires, they were raising it,—
A bird,
A beam, a roof at a time.

a foundation, of the jungle—of walls.
where with sculptures immovable,—an entrance adds a choice,
into an avenue…when they
conceived, layed out it with stones and bricks—Chicago
architects.

The view of the sculpture, metal.
Olive—in tan bronze—o, a dense shadow…proud, at a distance,
on the side, very much alone.

Looking through the crowd onto the clock of time, on strolling
back and forth techno-ants!…