In Twilight

The silence of snow oars on the streets,
And somewhere in sheds oars grieve.
You sit and speak so quietly,
As though wary of yourself and others.

Shall I exchange my black curtain
For another one — bright and red?
You're the sort to take affront —
Your own heart would hang you.

Weightless light steals from the glass,
Behind the wallpaper is a smell of lime.
How I'd like to smooth against my face
A newly cut round of pine.

Then again in this time of winter
I'd feel moist marl and streams,
And bending I'd say to you — gentle one,
I like the pattern of your dress.

But you, you talk of eternity
And fear your own death:
Long ago I told you — don't wear brown,
It's harmful to your nerves.

Who can touch on thoughts of death:
She never comes before her time,
Better learn to water flowers
And chase the tears from your cheek.

Translated by Inara Cedrins
(Contributed by daniel on Tuesday, April 5th, 2011)
 
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Selected poems by Aleksandrs Caks, including the long poem The Late Guest, are available in a collection titled Between Two Rains at http://www.amazon.com/Between-Two-Rains-Aleksandrs-Caks-ebook/dp/B00C10SNZG.
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