One More Sip and Down The Tube
In a little café over Notting Hill Gate tube station
I sat and drank coffee.
I sat where I could see out to the street,
And I was over thirty.
And so as to divert myself, I watched
The people out there and the way they walked.
(And who was smiling and who was wearing
What slogan on his or her tee-shirt.)And I saw a girl
Rise up from the depths.
Unlike the rest of the pack,
She was not awkward at all,
As if the street was just for her,
No obstacles, straight ahead.She walked with measured pace –
How she managed to pass everyone is a mystery.
In five minutes it began to rain,
My poem being finished.In the pre-Khruschev age, folks,
There was the concept of “without trace”.
In pre-Einstein physics,
There was the concept of “never”.
In pre-Petrine aesthetics,
There was the concept of “beard”.
In modern physics,
Everything is forever, clean-shaven, going nowhere.In pre-Einstein physics, our entire world
Was immersed in the ether.
And we slipped as easily through this, as a knife
Through butter; still,
Because of our movements, the ether was replete
With mysterious waves.Trainers, jeans, a tee-shirt with no
Images, still less words.
There are no hooks for words and glances
And that’s her secret.I’d fall out of the grave as out of a nest,
Make a thrust here and there,
Stake out the points of the compass
(On the sky) – and would hit the road.However close she passes, she doesn’t touch a soul.
It’s as if, for her, the crowd was more transparent than the ether.
A female basketball player maybe would walk this way.
Probably this is how Zemphira’d walk.
Perhaps this is Zemphira
(Yes, particularly here, out of all the world’s capitals –
It must be Zemphira.)And soon the asphalt gulf will close over me.
And I shall leave the capuccino to be remembered by.
Translated by Daniel Weissbort
Page(s) 274-275
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