Kristina Kryukova

August

translated from Russian by Sergey Gerasimov

The melting candle of the weeping willow

drops the departing summer into the stream,

and hundreds of pages of the outdated read

sink through the looking glass and are lost.

Aquarius or Aries might read those letters

while their rays are playing at the edge of the milky abyss,

and meteors flying over the dark silhouettes of chapels

might compose the urgent answer.

Apples scatter on the ground and up, into the sky.

The hushed fields live on the promise,

and the tightly plaited braids of wheat

are motionless under the heavens.

Everything is made to last: the tough rowan berries

are roasted under the orange blaze,

and look, over there, on the path,

there's a burning jewel of a bloody carnation,

as valuable as a ruby.

The hot nights breathe slower and slower,

but take your time, don't rush

to dissolve in September;

the applause is not subsiding

and we'll hear the best solo again…

Oh, August, god-like, depressing, leonine –

magician who gets life started!

I've known your voice and recognized your winy scent

since, as a baby, cried to you for the first time.

Like a hot comet, like you, August,

I showered onto the world in golden rays.

And probably it has become a sign of good luck

to expect the lights of Vertumnalias at night.

Kristina Kryukova  is an author from Russia. She lives in Moscow. Her most recent poems have appeared Salmon Creek Journal, Poets Choice. She graduated from the Moscow University of Culture and Arts. Winner of several national and international poetry awards, mother of two kids.

Sergey Gerasimov lives in Kharkiv, Ukraine. His writings span the gamut from philosophical poetry to surrealism and tongue-in-cheek fantasy. His stories have appeared in Adbusters, Clarkesworld Magazine, Strange Horizons, and other venues. Also, he is the author of several novels and more than a hundred short stories published mostly in Russian. Translator of Russian poetry and prose.