a draught in my memory


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Nathan Brusovani
Translated by Moshe Stolar

Insomniac clock’s hands were drawing near midnight ::

Fantasy whatsoever loses intensity upon luckily reaching the goal ::

A face turned inwards stands out for the lack of makeup ::

Sphynx is hollow, the buzz of a stray thought makes it flinch ::

Reward yourself with happiness – forget that it exists::

Write down your encounters step by step.  Might happen, you’ll need to retreat ::

The half-life decay period of visual memory is five years.

After this you just don’t run into it ::

Verboseness of silence is the stepmother of parting ::

Even without having been there, you have some notion of its existence ::

The language teacher mumbled incoherently, having got tangled up in the labyrinths of her language ::

Splinters of hope scratch the skin ::

Thinking about, we find ourselved inside the ::

Woke up, washed up, looked through the window, became witness to the abyss of human suffering ::

The riddle of life and the mysteries of creation are equally unpleasant on an empty stomach ::

The trees have become witness to endless confessions. They turned black ::

Every line virtually contains the horizon, but the vast – it is beyond any expression ::

Wondered about life. Got a sentence as long as memory is::

Your silence is unbearable! – So lend me your lips…  ::

They cut this morning lopsided.  Cries for help were heard time and again ::

Somewhere nearby, in life, in the bosom ::

Weighed every word, ended up on the other side of reason ::

Flamingo was inclined to go pink, while straightening its neck to fly off ::

Being erratic – exhaling all thought, the flight of mind, a deep breath, and a coughing fit::

No somersault I turned could move, if just a bit, the ugly stiffened blotch, that clogs my soul, my home, the universe as such ::

The screeching shutters let in what was yesterday ::

Memories were feeding on remnants of the seen ::

The clenched stopper-rod of the old washbasin oozed the overheard ::

The stain of an ended day was spreading over the tablecloth of weekdays ::

Billions of specks of dust swirled up on command for the morning offering. I dodged unnoticed ::

A wind blew from nowhere. It picked me up and carried away into nowhere ::

Music came through the сracks.

Ragged holes in the being bulged with light. He sat on the edge of the day, grasping his knees ::

Spread out the borders. Pulled up the horizon. Sliced some time into the broth ::

Wound up the heartbeat and waited.  It came.  It hurt ::

This minute took longer than usual.  And came to an end unexpectedly ::

Had to revise his life principles on the go, where it was awfully crowded.  So they got all filled up with feet scraping, brakes screeching, and faces running::

Storm of thoughts at once subsided on the plain of fancy words ::

His life was a false start.  He was ahead of his time ::

Build up the suspense, then leave the reader to the attention of the night visitors ::

Faces in the window were going in reverse. Memory drove into the opposite lane ::

The gravy train was over.  The passengers got sacked ::

A memory knot came undone.  Boy, just what spilled out… ::

Natural drives can wait for a while.  Unnatural drives fill up the whole of you ::

Bought a powder for removing all of the last thoughts, just to be on the safe side ::

Hair-raising thoughts visited him.  When pondering on yet another one, he every time jerked his head ::

Gulped down 50 grams of bitter words, took a bite of the weekdays.  As usual ::

The current of time is ruthless to swimmers without a life saver ::

Plunged headlong into the slightly ajar ::

A blank sheet.  The verbosity to come is rolled into it ::

Echo was dead scared clambering up after the mezzo::

It dawned on him. He broke into singing. Out of the ordinary ::

Disagreements became intolerable. I ceased to understand myself ::

Ready to leave this day, when falling asleep he smiled. But not for long ::

Waves of light flooded those present.  The enlightenment has been prepaid on the day before ::

Per day, yearly, weekly, monthly, per merit ::

There was a sound. Petrovich shuddered.  A certain half thought has been floating across the hemisphere::

The weather forecast was a failure.  The woods tensed up in anticipation of a storm ::

Slow down, wild rover, watch your tiny step ::

Ran out, looking down the street, and stopped dead – they cloned him!  ::

The chiaroscuro, glorified by Mandelstam, remains deranged ever since the six days of Creation.  The light bulb, sanctified by V. I. Lenin, kept sane for 48 hours ::

The old men’s babble chat and baby’s lamentation – both are my mother tongue, but not with punctuation::

Gave it some serious thought and flew away.  One way ::

Cheering again, brandishing the hammer and anvil ::

Blabbed unwillingly.  Confessed to himself ::

Missed the appointed.  Started to prepare for the worst ::

Infinity of the feathered disturbed consciousness while gently ruffling through what remained of his hair ::

Gray is the hour. Each minute like barbed wire. The wait goes on and on. The wristwatch just died out ::

Circumstances went backwards.  The endured piled up at the entrance ::

The statue turned into stone. A marble nipple trickled a vein of quartz ::

Foliage stiffened, stunned. Adam and Eve were getting rid of their nakedness ::

Blurted out in a fit of temper, as though cut off ::

Horizons appeared while submerging ::

Rare meditations aloud brought the silent monks closer to one another ::

A sound from the heavens has dissolved, it killed the dream for silence ::

Scattered promises made jogging difficult ::

Dust settled time after time, it left an aftertaste of the ages ::

The bell’s toll crashed into the ground ::

Up rushed a bird, calling into yet another day and a dazzling morning  ::

Forget. Don’t recollect. But the fingers, the fingers go numb – she’s so close ::

Abandoning the waiting orbit, the eye expects a brand new day ::

You can’t close yourself inside yourself. You can break out from the inside of someone else ::

Stood up. Sat down. Went into a spin like mad ::

The scene where they part – necks twisted, a duel! ::

He went through a lot.  Carried it all away ::

Spilled it, lost it, bumped into it, gathered it up, forgot about it for good ::

Even if you don’t know – it’s still nice ::

 

The End

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