Laurel leaves so green they shiver on the branches
Door ajar, a dusty window, distant shoreline
An abandoned chair, a bed, two lonely benches,
Simple fabric that’s absorbed the midday sunshine…
Pontus heaving just beyond stone-pine hedgerow.
At the cape, a ship and winds engaged in battle.
On a weathered stump, - the Elder Pliny’s shadow.
In a cypress shag, a blackbird’s chirpy prattle.
(Gennady Pritsker, translation)
A Baltic variant of letters to a Roman friend
Inscription on the chair
What keeps hearts from falseness in this flat region
is that there is nowhere to hide and plenty of room for vision
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