A canopy over the balcony
 
You are sick. The doctors say it is hopeless.

You are tidying up your apartment.

We are inviting people —

Craftswomen and craftsmen.
 

Here is the balcony, our breakfast place.

It’s out of order now.

But they will fix it, they will make it beautiful,

they will tile it with ceramic.

You and I will build a canopy over it

to protect ourselves from the sky, to escape from fate.
 

* * *
 
Autumn. Twilight. Yerushalayim.

A stone staircase;

no one walks on it anymore.

Overgrown on both sides.
 

It pained my heart.

I felt sorry for it, like for an old woman

forgotten by all,

overgrown with ailments with no end in sight.
 

What can I do?

Only visit it. It’s a form of greeting.

Walk carefully up and down its steps —

Up, down.
 

Good for my health, too.
 

An Attempt at Poetry Therapy

                          In memory of my son
                          In memory of my friend
 

A powerful voice.

What a powerful voice you had, son.

 
You used to let it loose

in fights with your mother
 

I got scared.

I accepted it.
 

For a long time, I endured in silence

our many problems.
 

You spoke to me more and more quietly,

You asked me for forgiveness.
 

And then you became silent forever.
 

Last meeting
 
The palm tree in your window

Was flapping its wings.
 

You looked at it

And said, “Wind meter…”
 

A palm tree is grass, you said.

A watermelon is a berry, I said.
 

And your disease is what?

You walked me to the door,

With an alarm button on your chest.*

 
I look into your eyes in a hurry,

I have no ability to know, to smell, to sense

That this is the last time I see you.
 

And I leave.

* Medical alert button
 

* * *
 
When I need to get my head together,

Figure out what to do,

I do the dishes.

You’re not answering your phone.

What happened to you?

I’m doing the dishes.
 

Diet
 
I remember a long time ago

I lost a lot of weight:

I fell in love.
 

And now again I’m losing weight…

What a great way to get thin —

to lose my only son.
 

And then to keep it off

by losing my friend

after losing my son.
 

I make no secret of this mystery:

love and death —

the simplest diet of all.
 

Homo erectus, the upright man
 
At the beginning of this year

it got hard for me

to keep my legs straight.
 

As soon as I get distracted —

there I am,

half-bent again.
 

I straighten up real quick —

and here I am, back on my way,

hugging my misery.
 

Way to go!

I stay young

By the strength of my will.
 

* * *
 
Almond blooms

to comfort me.
 

The terraces are green

for the same purpose.

 
The sky has opened up,

lit up brightly.
 

Thank you. It helped.
 

* * *
 
Once upon a time, my son ordеred mei eden,

which means water of paradise.

Should I stop drinking it

now that he’s gone?

 

The water arrives on the button.

Obediently I drink

the water of paradise.
 

* * *
 
If there’s no one in the house,

you can think out loud.

It helps

to remember things.
 

And outside nowadays,

if you think out loud,

it looks like you’re simply talking to someone

on a cordless phone.
 

I wonder if thinking outloud increases

blood flow to the brain?

Judging from the fact that my head

hurts again — not at all!
 

Maybe it would be more helpful

to tear my hair out.

Translated from Russian by N.L.