("Штурман Басов" by С. Жадан 'Lюk')
the pilot who is leaving all these skies
they are as if some honey - hot
and falling to a sleep he sees
unnoticed tracks of cometary plots
he’s gonna feel how altitudes are coming up and vanish in a flow
he’s gonna throw down roses and some leaflets on the city-covered-snow
the pilot who’s pronouncing names of cities by tongue-touchy-letters end
your airfields are slowly overgrown by hordes of reeds and moving send
and sky is pouring over gasoline as milky-colored blend.
5 September 2007
Iouri Lazirko
Copyright ©2007 Iouri Lazirko