Velimir Khlebnikov
A Persian Night

The sea-coast.
Sky. Stars. I’m quiet. I’m lying down.
My pillow’s neither a stone, nor feathers:
A sailor’s worn-throught boot.
Samorodov wore it in those red days
When he led the revolt
And moved ship of the white to Krasnovodsk,
To the red waters.
Getting darker. Darkened.
«Comrad, come on, help me!»
A black, cast-iron Persian calls
Picking up brush-wood from the earth.
I tightened the strap
And helped him to shoulder it.
«Saul» (meaning «thank you»).
He got lost in the dark.
And in the dark I whispered
The name of Mehdi.
Mehdi?
A beetle who flew from the black
Noisy sea,
Making for me,
Encircled my head two times
Folded his wing and landed in my hair,
Kept silent and then
Suddenly squeaked,
Distinctly said a well-known word
In the tongue we two understood.
His saying was firm but tender.
Enough! All was clear for two of us!
The dark treaty of night
Was signed by the beetle’s squeak.
With his wings lifted up like sails,
He flew away.
The sea erased both the squeak and the kiss
on the sand.
Yes, it was.
Everything’s true.

Translated by Alexander Zorin