Time and love. The novel in verse. George Pospelow

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      It grew darker. The pulse

      of the Galaxy’s solar engine

      pierced the illusory world.

      Beyond the typical understanding,

      this extraordinary phenomenon

      penetrated the lovers’ brains and bodies

      of the lovers, rapt, scared.

      A solar eclipse, a flare?

      Something else.

      A storm?

      It was not the Pole.

      Notions about cosmogony,

      occultism became confused.

      The surrealist depiction of the Sun

      seemed to be

      an apprentice’s draw from Nature.

      The vision was head and shoulders

      above virtuoso Hoffman.

      Primitivism could have explained

      whether these two

      were at the Creation

      or the Apocalypse.

      Nearby was his Beatrice,

      but no Virgil

      who could interpret

      where they were.

      A place of Hell, or

      a paradise of fiery wizardry?

      Either they were pushed

      at a forge,

      where the sky smith

      would flatten them

      into new stars

      for his tailcoat,

      or they were already

      on blood-red Mars:

      unearthly landscapes were

      where the glance went.

      Gradually fears disappeared:

      not at the end of light,

      but at the change of light.

      The two in love looked

      at recently bought

      golden rings,

      admired.

      A long kiss returned them

      to the Earth.

      Youngblood bubbled.

      Clothes – down.

      The girl allowed him to caress her.

      Engaged, they agreed

      not to copulate before the marriage.

      Soon, very soon.

      Still, to understand how

      the agreement could survive,

      well, read “Kama sutra.”

      There, a bride and a bridegroom

      find comfort,

      variations and variations of sex,

      unknown to many couples.

      Such was

      the chosen version of love.

      This resilient body!

      Perfect lines and shapes,

      each the Indo-European

      ideal of beauty!

      Then in a moment,

      the two decided

      to break their agreement,

      and pronounced

      a scarlet-hot desire,

      at that moment —

      for the first and the last time —

      they hear a rolling rumble.

      A warning blood smudge

      of a sacrificed fantastic animal

      appeared in the sky

      as if the Sun wished

      to communicate with the lovers,

      “The outcome will kill your love,

      proud, wondrous, all-time.

      Don’t impoverish yourselves.

      A wedding will reward

      your love forever.

      Just outwait it.”

      The two understood the omen,

      ran, quenched the fire of lust

      in the amaranthine ocean.

      The bridegroom plunged under the bride.

      An hourglass waist.

      The hips filled

      in the Sun frame.

      He kissed the V-shaped spot

      on his nearest Sun,

      weighed her down after him,

      then saved

      only to be drawn again in her arms.

      She, Redskin, liked it,

      intercepted the amorous initiative

      and attacked,

      until the Redman

      took her in his arms

      and carried her ashore.

      Hours elapsed

      in their embrace and conversation,

      before night came.

      Feeling the Shiner wanted

      to finish its explicit story,

      to face the truth out,

      and to lengthen the light,

      they found rough timber in the forest,

      and made a grotesquely high bonfire.

      Like an icon-lamp,

      it served as a liaison

      between them and the world

      beyond their conception.

      Earth, water, air,

      and fire —

      all four elements

      gathered on the shore

      besides the Sun – inactive

      when inside the logs,

      then calescent in half a sky.

      It’s dancing protuberances

      evoked a fantasy flow —

      snatchy flame visions.

      Appeared

      a Zoroastrian fire-handler

      seen in Gujarat.

      Nietzsche came up to him.

      They talked, disappeared.

      A widow has seen in Bihar

      allowed to cremate her alive.

      Her dead husband

      in glary white clothes

      met her, embraced, took off.

      Historical recollections

      and the Nature

      crossed over

      in vaulting groggy ecstasy,

      animating СКАЧАТЬ