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Marina Galina

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I said to him - don't throw me into this prickly bush

  “Do what you like, only don’t throw me into this prickly bush.”
                           (Tales of Uncle Remus)

I said to him – don’t throw me into this prickly bush:
this is my dear home, blossoming behind me.
Where each leaf trembles, there’s a rustling hush,
the berries are shot with black enamel and the colour blue.
I said to him – better to burn me in the bonfire,
blue-grey smoke has already floated overhead by morning,
and a shrike sings among the thorny branches
in the prickly bush, at the time of its dawning.
Better to throw me into the water, because the water tastes bitter,
like a prickly berry and down below it’s the same coloration.
But in the prickly bush fixated on a needle is a star,
not needed for the time being by any of the neighbours.
Ah, Brer Fox, you’re nobody’s fool,
don’t be won over by such notions or ideas.
I’ll seek out whatever creatures make you drool,
I’ll lead them out to your blackthorn lair.
I myself can’t go home – too sharp is the thorn
that has lodged in my chest – my left paw aches.
Better pay attention to the fine bonfire behind you
and right there beside you, a splendid lake.

Translated by Daniel Weissbort

Page(s) 62

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