Poets Poem by Vic Postnikov

The poet‘s talk - starts from afar
The poet - in her talk - goes far.

By planets, omens… devious ruts
Of parables… Twixt "yes" and "no"
She - from the highest belfry - hurls
Them into void... For comets go

Like poets. Scattered chunks
Of causes - is her cause! You're stunned?
The poet's black-outs can't be learned
From peering into charts.

The poet disarrays the cards
Deceives the weight and math,
She who inquires from the start,
She who makes Kant ablush.

Who in the Bastille's stony depth
Feels like a blooming bush;
She who leaves not a single trace,
A train that you have missed…

For comets go
Like poets: they would burn,
Reap, but not sow - blow, burst -
Their path is so bent
No calendar can guess!

- Marina Tsvetaeva,1923
Trans. Vic Postnikov,2013