issue 09 poetry | The Common

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Yelabuga

April 25, 2015 Issue 09, Issue 09 Poetry, Poetry

Maria does her washing by the wall
so bare that you’d think she shaved it.

The window’s open, anyone can see.
Soap hisses. Air-raid warning rings
like a telephone from the future.
Her dress is nailed onto the laundry line.

I Went Sick as a Child

April 1, 2015 Issue 09, Issue 09 Poetry, Poetry, Translation

By ARSENY TARKOVSKY

Translated by VALZHYNA MORT

I went sick as a child

with hunger and fear. I’d rip the crust
of my lips—and lick my lips; I recall
the fresh and salty taste.
And I’m walking, I’m walking, walking,
I sit on the steps by the door, I bask,
I walk delirious, as if a rat catcher led me
by my nose into the river, I sit and bask
on the steps; I shiver this way and that.