The Voice Over

Leaping in lilacs like a swing

Into here-world—and there-.

Translated by Andrew Reynolds

from Songs of the Northern Southerners

The Bride

1.

May was incredibly heated, white heat.

In every tree birds flitted and flirted.

Maidens glanced askance as they darted,

Air blew bird cherry through the streets.

It would have swept anyone right off their feet.

2.

So for the child that is born in May,

Though she hide behind a curtain of tulle,

Yearning will gnaw through, “Knock, knock. Who’s …”,

Greedily snatch up this toy and play

At rocking it over the abyss—so they say.

3.

That Marusya was barely in her teens.

Outsiders thought that she was a fool,

In through one ear and out of the other the cool

Moscow river’s oar wind had blown her brains:

Carried her common sense downstream.

4.

She didn’t stroll down the avenue.

Out with friends she rarely sashayed.

The small gift of young living critters,

That whiteness, and sweetness, and scarlet hue,

Bowled her over and gave her the jitters.

But it was water that made her sorely afraid.

5.

Even from a tap, and a trickle so thin.

Or from a kettle—the merest wisp of steam.

That’s why even as a teeny young thing,

Though few words were exchanged, no evening

Was complete without her swoon.

6.

She’d often tip over as if wanting to sleep.

Would show white like a saucer’s underside.

So they’d bring revivifying water to help,

And she’d bite her lips into a bee sting,

And sail off into an unearthly Spring.

7.

She even took safety-pins to school,

To keep herself from harm:

Permanent scar marks on her hands and arms.

Boats or ponds would set off alarms,

Or even benches next to pools!

8.

And maidenly May was all wrapped up

In a cosmoheat, miracle-ranging,

Rising to her bare knees from her feet,

Just like tea freshly brewed in a cup.

And all this led, quite naturally, to changes.

9.

For example, a groom announced his presence

Like a firework display over the park,

In the hot heaven, with a cherished present,

Differing from all others one could mention,

Like heavenly fabric from those with earth’s mark.

10.

And so here’s the guipure and veil of the dress.

Meters of lace, wings of inspiring advice on all sides,

Bows, ribbons, the corset’s tight press

And the cathedral veil flowing astride:

She’s been cleared for take-off, we guess!

11.

And so to the wedding: honey mead from lips spills.

The day’s set, all’s strictly planned by the hour.

A week to wait, straightening up the frills,

Trying footwear on for size and thrills,

Making sweet partings in the hair.

12.

But one old woman, her neighbor, has noted

That the bride’s soul is ill at ease,

Heart in mouth and nowhere to put it.

And she grows thin, and wan, and grieves,

And sits alone every eve.

13.

So this old dame gathered up her pluck,

A fortifying spoonful of air in her chest, no more,

And snuck

Up to the nearest door

And, eavesdropping, almost sank to the floor.

14.

“Ah” and “oh” was all she heard, time after time.

As water rumbled all through the pipes.

“His anger’s truly boiled over the brim.

Water imp, water imp, water imp.

Just my luck to take after him!

15.

And what on earth does he want with me,

Who announced himself like a patrimony?

On a dread day of my forgotten childhood,

I locked myself away from him in a wardrobe …

And to this day haven’t set myself free.

16.

I should get married, be curled up like a vine.

But my harsh master is spooking

Me in every cracked cup in the kitchen:

Quietly splashing: ‘Stay in line!’

Glistening in ripples: ‘Vengeance is mine!’

17.

How I’m scared of him, that old guy!

Whenever some running water is sprinkling

Or heaven’s thunderstorm winking

At the troubled green of my eye,

That’s him hinting, ‘Yes, all this is I.’”

18.

… And so the neighbor turned silent heels,

Walked the whole corridor length, teeth a-chatter,

Trying to escape this terrible natter—

With no one to advise or to heal

In white robes behind an ambulance wheel.

19.

But no sooner had she resolved to bear witness

And report this to the appropriate quarters

Than in her cat’s dish the shallow water,

As if brought to the boil, smirked and taunted her

With the words: “Mind your own fucking business.”

20.

And so it all remained a mystery.

A car rolled up decked in bows and sprays,

With a pink doll under bouquets,

The doll that beautifies our special day,

And, looking like a divinity,

21.

Down the stairs the bride descends,

And running up the stairs the groom ascends,

And held her up like a bouquet.

And his car revved up and sped away,

Drove off and didn’t return. The end.

22.

And fast withering, bough burnt by the sun,

And whiter than brocade for the dead,

Speaking rarely and non-hearsayly,

Till her grave the neighbor merely

Sought out reports the mainstream papers would run.

23.

There is no consolation, none.

Translated by Andrew Reynolds

The Pilot

And when he came back from wherever there is,

He groaned in his sleep and rained bombs on the cities

And ghosts appeared to him.

He’d get up in the middle of the night for a smoke,

Our communal rags piled about, and awoke,

I’d start packing bags in the dim,