Orange in a Schoolbag

Walking through her rooms

in summer,

she tries to catch the wind

in the kvatyrkas

like a clumsy fisherman

who fails to adjust

his sails.

She’s on the watch for drafts

and sets traps for them.

But the drafts tell her:

your movements are too tender,

your blood is too hot;

what can you catch in your life

with such low self-control?!

You’re raising your hands

way too high

while trying to catch

emptiness.

Everything that slips

out of our hands

is but hollowness.

And everything

we don’t have patience for

is only the wind

above our cities.

The sun in the morning sky

resembles an orange

in a schoolbag:

the only thing of real importance

and the only thing you think about

when you feel especially

lonely.