Из старенького

[el_d]

January tune

From the melting glaciers the South wind comes
banging upon my door.
It doesn’t even know if I’m at home,
what is it knocking for?

Over the ridge the ochre reigns
and drought eats up land like a tide.
And the North wind needn’t bother to knock
for the heat is already inside.

Hold fast. It’s January
on the edge of the sea,
on the edge of the desert,
in the place where the Earth is flat.

So the wind whistles down the winding streets
and the ocean riles at the beach,
and polysyllabic herbage slides
its roots into every breach.

And while chasing after a sneaky rhyme
through the suburbs of dark renown
you can walk the night in the molten light
of the moon that hangs upside-down.

Hold fast. It’s still January
by the alien sea,
on the alien land,
in the place where the Earth is flat.

And whatever present tomorrow brings
there is always a past to forge
with our thoughts and longings layering up
all the way from Olduvai Gorge.

We fill empty spaces and flood the air
with our knowledge and love and strife,
so this city may answer the howling wind
with the subliminal roar of life.

Hold fast. It’s January
by the changing sea,
in whatever land,
in the place where the Earth is flat.