From a Distance
Written by Dmytro Chystiak
Translated from the Ukrainian by Hilary Sheers
Narrated by Tony Dawson
Morning frost. Grey gloom in the distance.
Cold voices rising from the night.
Your water-lily trembles in my hand,
But in the eyes a high call quivers
From afar. And a golden phantom
At dawn, on the feast of Transfiguration, the first bells
Ring out in purity’s embrace – unfathomable
Time divides between
This grey loneliness on the edge of an abyss
And a resounding cry of before-the-storm delight,
At dawn, on the feast of Transfiguration, in union.
Yet even then a strange thought comes to mind –
That once all time was one
Your wine, matured for years,
With the caution of bewildered youth
With near death yearning above the sea,
With a childish stirring (like seashells do
We curl into the night against a dream)
In passion’s twilight – not ourselves
We make love – in distant intertwining
Of other rivers, waterfalls and heights
Woven into oneness before the summer…
Will you return from beyond the sea – I do not know.
Or will the sea wash me away by morning?
It matters not! – A high call quivers in the eyes
From the distance when we lay entwined together.