It is already winter. So drink old wine . . .
Written by Dmytro Chystiak
Translated from the Ukrainian by Hilary Sheers
Narrated by Srinivas Reddy
It is already Winter. So drink old wine
In the mystery of a distant flood,
Remember the young forms of bodies,
Though it will hurt a little
Beneath the cloak of gloom-dark evenings
As in the first Spring of all – bitter
Is that sulphur river of pleas passed on,
Which I called prayers –
Now it is Winter. Floods already here.
A cold glow gleams beneath the water …
Your satin brightness shining like a star,
Its ice white blood flowing from
Your late flowering wounded jasmine,
Which lay down on my warm heart…
Snow lagged behind
I see the wine wraiths: I hear – you’re waiting,
You hear this secret vigil,
And I know: the quiet land recedes,
Soon you will return and spread
A river over the muffled sound of stones,
In wine-steeped dreams again I’ll see
Strong young shoots by light of dawn.