so I'll finish here.
love and death start to recede,
with no location, character, plot.
only utility poles with cables,
only the ice posts overhead
and crystal splinters on the rails
fill the private pressured knowledge.
behind you there is the same heart of the horizon,
which belongs to two people at once,
almost in the same coordinate,
almost the same entourage.
bot how alien are these words.
I have grown them, being deaf,
I don't know their meanings.
when I say them I hear them buzzing.
it's a model of a dead train -
its painted-over hammer and sickle, the logic
is looming in the museum's window.
it's the ice post snapped from the oncoming echo
in the reddish horizon, its a wedge
Translation: Edgaras Platelis, Becka Mara Mckay
čia ir baigsiu,
meilė ir mirtis pradeda trauktis.
nėera vietos, herojaus, siužeto.
tik elektros stuplai su kabeliais,
tik ledo stulpai virš galvos
ir kristalų skeveldros ant bėgių.
prie privataus prievartinio žinojimo -
tau už nugaros ta pati horizonto širdis,
priklausanti dviems vienu metu
beveik tame pačiame anturaže.
tačiau kokie svetimi šitie žodžiai.
juos augianau būdamas kurčias,
nežinau ką jie reiškia.
tardamas juos girdžiu kaip jije spengia.
tai mirusio traukinio modelis, -
muziejaus lange boluoja uždažytas
jo kūjas su pjautuvu, logika.
tai nuo aido boluoja plyštantis ledo stulpas
rausvame horizonte, tai pleištas