My thanks to Donal O'Callaghan, who both inspired and assisted with this translation.


Meditation

Just as moisture concealed in the air awakens at dawn,
And descends into grass to greet the Sun with a myriad of lights,

Just as wind dies down on a summer evening,
And the boundless peace of the approaching night stills all but clouds trailing after the Sun,

Just as the conflagration of moonrise above a forest turns into the cool silver of a full moon,
(And werewolves drown in the fiery ecstasy of transformation),

So here, by the river of rivers, I tame my unquiet pack,
And teach myself to listen.

But on summer evenings bluish mist rises over meadows,
The moon wanes, and my pack, perhaps scenting prey, has scattered into the night.

Only the wind lasts, and in unquiet gusts, shivering through my body,
Brings fragments of words, perhaps being spoken by someone on the other shore.


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Mike Arnautov (22 April 2017)