Minuscule bouquets in minuscule earthenware vases –
they tell you so much about the Latvian soul.
Even a dog waits for a smile before closing in.
By the edge of the sea and the shore live white gulls,
by the edge of the grave and eternity, radiant folk.
Autumn. Observe the foliage.
Be alone in your silence . . .
Perhaps you’ll hear steps . . .
The church will pencil its request on the sky.
You have only to enter.
Over the sea, magnetised by its own passion,
clots of primary material:
gulls.
Mariya Avvakumova (born 1943) Russia
Translated by Daniel Weissbort
Source: Modern Poetry in Translation New Series No. 20 - 2002
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