To catch a wolf
become the wolf
where tracks lead distant
to trails beyond
His nose on fire
and fangs bare fronted
to follow closely
all fear withdrawn
He marks each turning
with blood ill letted
to lure the hunter
on death’s foray
This sojourn ends
in wooded darkness
to enter once
— your fate to prey
(Beartooth Mountain: August, 2025)
Traveling over an ocean to the
New world a symphony slowly grew and
Burst upon America as the New World,
Composer left an imprint quality new volume
Anton or Antonín or perhaps Anthony Dvorák.
Pen smoothing ink gliding over paper
Nine symphonies moved musical instruments
With voices soft loud high low,
Impression held eyes to see and ears verify
Ludwig van Beethoven work that’s loved.
Piano bouncing concerto
Orchestra looking at notes to keep up.
Was Russia to give this music?
For difficult key touch streams electrify
Mom loves Sergei Vasilievich Rachmaninoff.
Symphony seems to flow towards stage,
Forty first put to paper in a minute
Seems to be unreal, who Heavenly gave this?
One glances back to see civilization for family
Oh my Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Edifying joy.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2uqZhnqHMAg
The orchestra strains to be symphonic --- a bee in a tin box.
Cigar smoke thunders, molecules of sound wilt
only to be dialed up through brass lungs.
The combo is quaintly upholstered, a classic sports car
driven by Disney. Outmoded refrains gurgle.
We see the obsolete road ahead, feel the bumps,
the lack of shock absorbers.
The third piano concerto, the romance of the exile.
1940 is pulled from under its Perspex lid, served up
as fresh Prosciutto di Parma consumed in a diner
long derailed.
The mind warps eras, Michelangelo has gone Hollywood,
the 'Creation' sketched on a paper napkin.
Last notes.
Hands too large for tuxedoed minds, stamp
like rhapsodic elephants.
Percussive fingers slam-dunk ivory tusked themes,
Russian bells quake California.
Rolling vespers outgrowing each decade,
times now locked in a recovery CD millimeters thin.
~~~
https://www.thetruthaboutcars.com/2010/10/sergei-rachmaninoff-car-guy-aero-investor/
Come on kiss me, kiss me, hear,
Let I'm hurt, let I am bleeding,
Cold's inside, it isn't greeting
boiling heart and falling tear.
Mug is overturned in revel,
But their fun is not for us,
Understand, my friend, oh, devil,
We are living only once.
Turn around and look with sadness
in this humid mist that's cursed,
Yellow raven flies in darkness -
Half of moon's above the earth.
Come on kiss me! Yes, I burn,
For my ears - decay is singing;
And some one put on his mourn
in the sky - it smells my leaving.
Fading strength and fading power,
if I have to die I'll die
kissing lips for my last hour -
Sweetheart's lips these all are mine.
And I want my deep blue dreaming
without shame and without curse,
Let bird-cherry rustles singing
to my ears: I'm only yours.
Let the light with foam and revel
over mug will never pass,
Drink and sing, my friend, oh, devil,
We are living only once.
P.S. This is my translation of poem by Sergei Yesenin
As a young man,
I was always obsessed
By melancholy,
I saw deep sadness
As glamorous and romantic,
The quality
That so tormented my heroes,
Such as Arthur Rimbaud,
Sergei Esenin,
And Montgomery Clift.
But it's not...
It's not remotely romantic,
When you yourself are adrift,
And weighed down by a multitude of woes.
I am so tired, my friend
Tired of scaring my own heart
To please the hearts of others
Tired of feeding with vodka and Russia
The sadness of my poems
I sang feedom, imprisoned by my fever
So young and so tired
Not sorry, not calling, not crying
I am shutting my eyes
And arbitrary blackness is galloping in
Black hotel room, black blood
And stars start waltzing on the ceiling
Dying is nothing new in this life
I am looking at your picture
At your handsome, yet sad face
This picture is all
You’ve left me in this world
All the rest is just memories
MY memories.
You were young and so strong
But the cowards took it all
All at once
All at once
they took from you
and the question is just why
couldn’t you say something
I know you wouldn’t cry
When they had the cold knife
Right in front of your face?
It makes me angry
And I know why
I didn’t get a chance
To at least say GOOD BYE
You were only twenty-five.
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