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Inna Lisyansky

INNA LISYANSKY: In the Hermitage

In the Hermitage

For the fame and profit, selfish,
Much flame had been still collapsed…
And the fiddler of the Flemish,
Caught me with his look at once.

His fiddle-stick become quite charred,
His skull-cap – of dying flame,  
And, inquisitive and steady,
Looks at me this little old man. 

There is nobody who knows
Why does smoke our world: 
Whether fire eats us always,
Whether we consume it, hot.


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, May, 2001


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