Dmitry Blizniuk is an author from Ukraine. His most recent poems have appeared in The Pinch, Press53, Dream Catcher, Magma, Sheila Na Gig, Adelaide, The Nassau Review, Havik, Saint Katherine Review, Star 82, Pif Magazine, Naugatuck River, Lighthouse, The Gutter, Palm Beach Poetry Festival and many others. A Pushcart Prize nominee, he is also the author of “The Red Fоrest” (Fowlpox Press, 2018). He lives in Kharkov, Ukraine.
From another world
A branch gently taps against my window.
The steady clinking of knitting needles.
The sounds merge into the deafening magic of silence.
The silence emerges from the background of small noises
Like a girl emerges from the sea.
She deftly like a mermaid shakes the water from her hair,
Squeezes it, and puts it on her shoulder.
I take her hand. She’s trustful and tender.
We walk through the park strewn with sounds.
A crown strewn with jewels.
A coin falls on the asphalt,
A strike of a match scratches the air,
A streetcar clicks its castanets far away,
A blind man on the bench smacks his lips.
The snails of his eyes are drawn deep into their shells.
Beside him, patiently, sits a woman, upright and flat
Like the Virgin on an icon, and holds his hand.
The pines are as motionless in the sky as rocks.
It’s so quiet that one can hear
The crunch of the tiny jaws of squirrels in the pines.
Silence is a way from another world,
A path of gods paved through the musical bedlam of humanity.
In silence, one can see the eternal mess
And the pageant of elephantine ideas, images, ghosts.
Draw aside the fringed curtain of November
And listen to the silence… It’s all
That will be left of you.
(translated by Sergey Gerasimov from Russian)