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The irreversible has already happened.
А smile still wanders about the face,
as if a bird who, sitting on a branch,
is sensing danger but despite this
delays his flight. The azure bell
is humming with a high cool call,
and yet the crevices are getting wider,
the heart is twitching in the chest,
as if a tongue of that azure bell,
both of them ill. The garden blossoms still,
the voices of the birds are drunk and shrill,
but something has already happened.

Irreversible, it hurries to my home,
a heavy cloud. Soon there will be thunder,
and rain, and hail, and flares of static,
dense, as those early-summer buds.
And there will be something else. There will be. Day
stands tall, like a television tower –
and it keeps rising, thin as a needle
about to spit out an astringent tear.
Then it will drip, it will collapse and bury
its palms and knees deep in the soil
under the weight of my foreboding, for
the irreversible has happened already.

translated by oksana maksymchuk

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