Thursday, October 27, 2011

This World



 
My own planet, my Earth,
      My globe spinning through space!
By the sun’s flaming hands
      You were launched on your race.

On his wheel your moist clay
      He lovingly threw
And with tender caresses
      Gave life unto you.

In the kilns of the cosmos
      Where cosmic storms blaze
You were fired and were tempered
      And coaled with glaze.

When at last you were finished
      And fired, shining new,
The sun poured the oceans
      And seas onto you.

With dawns and with sunsets
      He painted you too,
Then washed you with showers
      He sent from the blue
O’er the firmament wide
      He then stepped aside,
Looked down on his masterpiece,
      Beaming with pride.



For that globe was just perfect,
          No more and no less
And the potter was happy
          At such a success.

Through distant mists shining
      On the planet he smiled,
Then gave it to Man,
      Saying: "Take it, my child!

“Take care not to break it,
      For surely, I feel,
I’ll never repeat it
      On my potter’s wheel!”

Translated by Louis Zellikoff


SEMYON KIRSANOV

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