We present this work in honor of the poet’s 95th birthday.

 

Pushkin dying
Of his duel wound
Asked for a mirror
And a bowl of millet porridge
LIKE A MONKEY he said
Spooning into the mirror
As far as we know we will
Not see each other again We do not need
To fool ourselves any more Probably
Nothing new will happen but there will be Probably
Nothing Whatever that may be
Even the leap into the mirror would not bring
Us closer to each other Glass clinks
The way women scream

Translation by Carl Weber