Sophia Parnok
Cigarette after cigarette...

To Vera Zvyagintseva

Cigarette after cigarette.
We assemble, we talk, we judge.
All evening, I appear red-haired
through the eyes of the smoke.

As my other self drifts through a wasteland...
That unutterable blue light!
Every leaf — trembling —
on the sorrowful aspens.

Heaven’s drowsy vaults step apart,
a bright beehive comes into view, —
“Oh my stepdaughters! Stepsons!..”
nature breathes.

Translated by Rainie Oet