Vasilisk Gnedov (1890-1978)

Translated by Emilia Loseva and Danny Winkler


   Not knowing wearines

   But only knowing metal

   Between the teeth the forks of fungi settle

   The decks were rusting

    The hill cats at the feet

    And a coppice branchily

    In the field so stubborn

    On our whistle call

    The fog's silver drachma

    A wherry jangled

    A bird fell over

How much shot for a head is required

Take a bite out of death eat the heart—try it

     Here is the hill here is the hillock

     Through the mouths on saliva

     The foot dragged its ragged rock

Schwach! Schwach! The dark clouds hit the sky's palate