Beyond is where the passersby end
and where the wood begins its melting.
Beyond, the sobered spruce trees flock and
fall upside down, fall upside down.
Broken like they were home-rolled ciggies,
no brushwood on their naked bodies,
All swaying, swaying their dark trunks, and
rustling, and tickling, looking on.
A big bear lives in them, a she-bear,
She lies above, and swallows wind gusts,
And drinks hot water, asymmetrical
and breathing smoke at home in billows,
Inside which, saved and sheltered, finally
she is invisible and sleeps.
Translated by Nika Skandiaka