On the Seven Winds

Going to Nowhere from Nowhere...

Instead of deadlines — expired days...

I'm tired of the blue debauchery,

and my soul yearns for love.

My horses have wearied — they've stopped.

Ahead — a blazing sunset.

I looked back — my path is being swept away

by a ginger clown — a yellow leaf fall...

Behind my shoulders — cities and years...

Meetings... Partings... Names...

Faces... Crossroads... Turns...

Behind my shoulders — the first spring...

... a provincial southern town...

May rain, rustling outside the window...

my school friend —

a fair-haired guy...

an anus, blazing with fire...

blood on fingers... the smell of Vaseline...

a tender voice: "My girl..."

I smile impassively,

saying nothing in reply...

girl?... what nonsense, God!..

we kiss passionately... and he

offers his virgin hole too, —

I catch his moan with my lips...

hands, embracing passionately...

lips, burning once more...

a quiet whisper:

"Who are we? Sodomites?"

the first — mad! — love...

May rain

drums on the leaves... —

"My life!

Or did I dream of you?

As if on a spring, resonant morning

I galloped on a pink horse..." —

a vague — distant! — languor...

wet pre-dawn dreams...

hot — with a hand! — copulations...

the sudden surge of a riotous spring —

first experience...

cities and years...

names dear to the heart...

the sticky smirks of homophobes... —

behind my shoulders — time and country...

And... at the turn of the millennium,

remembering the very first time,

I — another, already forty years old,

having tasted everything, like Ecclesiastes, —

I don't cry about anything, nor do I regret...

And I don't need a different fate!

I'll catch my breath. I'll overcome the melancholy.

And again — the whole world is before me!

Who said I'm from Nowhere?

Who decided I'm going to Nowhere?

Life is love: I loved, I love and will

love henceforth! — not the worst fate!

27. X. 1999