Ravil Bukharayev
from Quest: Misty Sonnets
1
The echo of my words, lost in the mist,
Recurred in Venice, in its hidden garden
By the palazzos of the town squeez’d.
Revealed, Madame, by your sudden compassion.The masks upon the bridges egos gladden.
Just as my eyes on lavish costume feast,
The face stays bland, which in their midst,
Disguises me in some eye-catching pattern.May I instead, ascend above the trees,
See through the clouds over the horizon
The Alpine peaks, though not Italian,
But so snow-covered and distinctly Swiss!Alas, the echo led me out of here:
I listen to the silence from the pier.
Translated by Richard McKane
Page(s) 69
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