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Yannis Stavrou, Moon Shine, oil on canvas
The moon is emerging.
It will be here
soon...
Vladimir Mayakovsky
Past one o’clock
Past one o’clock. You’re probably in bed.
The Milky Way streams like the silver Oka.
I won’t send wild telegrams. I don’t intend
to trouble you and vex you any longer.
And now, as people say, our case is closed.
The boat of love could not endure the grind.
We’re even now. And there is no remorse,
let’s not bring up the sorrows left behind.
Behold what hush has fallen on the ground!
The starry night is grandiose and spacious.
At times as these, you rise and speak aloud
to ages, histories and all creation.
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Vladimir Mayakovski (1893-1930)
Moonlit Night
The moon is emerging.
It will be here
soon.
And now, it hangs in the air, full and stark.
That is probably God, with a divine,
silver spoon,
groping
in the fish-soup of stars.
Listen
Listen!
if the stars are lit,
then someone needs it, of course?
then someone wants them there,
calling those droplets of spittle
pearls?
And wheezing,
in the blizzards of midday dust,
he rushes to God,
fearing he’s out of time,
and sobbing,
he kisses God’s sinewy hands,
tells Him that it’s important,
pleads to Him that the star must shine!
vowing
that he won’t survive a starless torment!
And later,
he wanders, worried,
though seemingly calm and fit,
and tells somebody:
“Now?
Nothing frightens you?
Right?!”
Listen!
if the stars
are lit,
then someone must really need them?
then it is essential
that at least one star
lights up
over the rooftops each night?!
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