Saturday, December 24, 2016

the water-thrush



In the quiet heart of the ice-covered valley, the river murmured, trickling.





In the frigid stream, a water-thrush was dipping and diving.





He finished his supper, and flitted to an icy branch in the center of the stream. The fact that he was not yet frozen, and the non-stop flicker of his movements, appeared to constitute a procession of miracles.

And then, not only was he improbably and throbbingly alive, he was -- singing. A warble -- a few piercing, leaping trills -- the sort of call that must have left in its wake traces of yearning, of wordless verses painted on the pewter sky.

In response, another tiny bird flew directly over his head. In less than a blink, he was off the branch, airborne, swirling into formation with his mate, until he disappeared into the forest behind me.




I realized that I had nearly forgotten to breathe, while listening to his song.  


________________________


Snow is everywhere; quiet all around;
Nature slumbers in a winter dream,
And between the clouds, gray and grimacing,
The dull daylight is peeking.

Above my empty window
Is only a single bird's nest,
But it serves to remind me
of spring, of flowers, and the sun!

--Ivan Belousov


Всюду снег; кругом всё тихо;
Зимним сном природа спит,
И сквозь туч — седых и хмурых —
Тускло солнышко глядит.

Над моим окном пустое
Птичье гнёздышко одно —
Но весну, цветы и солнце
Мне напомнило оно!..

Иван Белоусов

3 comments:

Brin Bron said...

A poet I read years ago spoke of Her walk in the Hoe with lady Buddha..when a Doe paid her the greatest compliment by turning her back and flicking her tail..The poet goes on ..this is the balm She sends to heal all my wounds...She too writes about the Wordless..When she heard the wordless softness of a Does hooves..Your writing reflects a similar connection ..Your descriptions are exquisite...poignant when observing the plight of this very Vulnerable little Bird in winter.. your last line brings this all together..I almost forgot to Breathe...Magical

Hans said...

Beautiful!

Iulia Flame said...

Thank you both for stopping by. I was humbled and awed by the presence of the little water-thrush, and his ecstatic song.

all is translation (and every bit of us is lost in it)

Rilke (Leonid Pasternak, 1900) Image credit to Wikimedia Commons GONG Sound, no longer measurable with the sense of hearing. As ...

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