The Inferno Poem by Leo Yankevich

I open my window to the flames
and again: the smell of ice and snow
older than the joy of loneliness.

And again: those beautiful black birds,
the rooks, waiting for bits of stale bread
while three storeys high, I cast them spells.

And again: the harsh coughs of gamblers
and visionary loons limping to kiosks,
and the curses of sobering drunks.

And again: the smoke of burning coal
wed to the melancholy rumour
of faintly pealing cathedral bells.

And again: those eternal grey skies,
prostrating, still praying upside down…