Poetry
***
I gazed and gazed into the whale-sized well,
Besieged by arc-shaped spaces along the walls
I stood in awe: the bottom – at the ground-floor – the “дно”
Lined with rows of chairs, among which people, like insects, were spread out.
The smell of velvet curtains and dust paired with beeswax
From polished wooden floors, handrails and heavy doors,
Costumes and props to stiffen or shape the fabrics –
Remained for me forever as a most pleasant odor.
On the curtain was a painting: a green oak, a golden chain
And the learned cat attached to it – an orchestra played.
Suddenly, the curtain wobbled, rose, and I was weak-kneed,
Like a monkey seeing a banana for the first time – that was me.
Well-dressed people walked inside the whale-sized well,
Conversing with each other in a particular, rhymed way,
I gazed and gazed, I didn’t understand what they were saying,
I was besieged by diction-perfect voices and, unblinking, thinking of nothing,
I breathed these wonders. The curtain fell, I still was sitting down,
Enchanted by a waking dream, a dream I’d never experienced before,
But always looked forward to, and still look forward to.
People shouted, pushed me, left, and came back,
But I still gazed and gazed, and when the light men began to
Put out the projectors, I felt sad. I couldn’t think this life had ended.
My arms and legs went numb, I perfectly remember
I was unsteady, when I went out into the street. Returning home and seeing
Like rare lanterns wink at one another, I stopped at sidewalks, I recalled
Rhymed monologues of actors and I recited words, I mimicked the
Eyebrows, cheekbones, and mouth expressions and gestures
Of those who learned the roles by heart.
