Ignorant Invalids Poem by Yekaterina Bezpalaya

A sweet aroma of freshness hardly lingers,
slightly unconcealed.
Cracks in the sky invisibly splinter the clouds.
For even a moment,
all is immersed in an inquisitive silence;
the ticking of the clocks becoming deaf to the eardrums.

Amused and frightened,
the rain is hesitant to come out;
like a child quivering under the bed during a thunder storm.

Right foot then left foot press and sweep down the linen curtains;
the shadows of my mother's plants outlining their pristine shapes.
Every soul is singing,
can you not hear it from beneath your feet?

Car alarms, air-conditioning, the ticking of the clocks;
all false harmonies of man,
whilst they make futile attempts to control Nature.

Fools.