Что-то озарило

Родину. Чей взгляд? Какая

стая? Прожектора?

Лету конец, и трасса

упорствует собою против ветра.

Стертый звук. Горстями

радость издали и вдаль.

Не скрежет заграждения

по насту и не бремя

бетона на мордовской зоне.

Ирина Ратушинская, дойдет

ли это на последний адрес,

успеет ли ваш русский бог

перенести вас в Англию, в

больницы, в свободный мир,

к тьме крохотных решений?

Пригоршни крика крошатся

из одиночки, а дыханье

все шире, и слова грызут

тепло. Там что-то озарило

вашу Родину.

 
Irina Ratushinskaya Freed

Something has lit up your

Motherland. Whose eyes? What flock

of birds? Camplights?

Late summer eve and the freeway

insists its traffic through wind.

Rubbed off sound. Handfuls of

enjoyment coming and going.

Not the noise of barbed wire dragged

through snow, and not the dull

weight of concrete at Zone 4 Mordovia.

Irina Ratushinskaya, would this

have reached your last address

before your Russian God brought you

safe to England, and safely to

her hospitals, to the freeworld and a

million little decisions?

Handfuls of shouting reach out from

solitary confinement, your breath

amplifies and your words

bite warmth. Something has lit up

your Motherland.

Something has lit up your

Motherland. Whose eyes? What flock

of birds? Camplights?

Late summer eve and the freeway

insists its traffic through wind.

Rubbed off sound. Handfuls of

enjoyment coming and going.

Not the noise of barbed wire dragged

through snow, and not the dull

weight of concrete at Zone 4 Mordovia.

Irina Ratushinskaya, would this

have reached your last address

before your Russian God brought you

safe to England, and safely to

her hospitals, to the freeworld and a

million little decisions?

Handfuls of shouting reach out from

solitary confinement, your breath

amplifies and your words

bite warmth. Something has lit up

your Motherland.

 

_______________________

О Ирине Ратушинской