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172
Piotr Oreshin

NOT BY HANDS CREATED

 

1

Fall on your face,

Drop
Mug-forward into the swamps.
With your old were-wolf's eye,
Cataract-blinded,
Look
What a blade I am!
 
Carrot-haired
Big-browed dawns,
And the darkness of forests,
Rye,
And the sheaves behind the village,—
My body.
 

3

Long ears,

Tufted with red hair,
Wag
Like asses' ears
Through the heavens!
 

4

Two

Convulsed eyes—
Two
Oceans resting in me,

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