Silence

[This is addressed] to you—A century later,*

When you experience despair

And the tremor of fear and anger,

You’ll hear my silence.

And you will follow me

Along the flight paths of eagle and hawk,

Where

Bright colored openings

Leak endlessly.

Direct speech of grief.

The sky

Is covered in crosses.

As to my god-child

I bequeath to you Silence:

Seize it—like

A song,

Whistle

It

In your quiet moments:

We are but a reprise

Of the current of the years

Of blossoming—of twittering—

Of Silence—forever.

Translated by Daniel Weissbort

* Quotes the first line of Marina Tsvetaeva’s poem: “To you a century later” (author’s note).