Something happened in Voronezh, something happened in Moscow
I, after a long interval, held some serious master classes. Once more saw young faces, was asked complicated questions, again my faith returned…
And no one wished to part, and we strolled, and slept not, and worked again until bruised and in tears
And now I am afraid of asking – have you forgotten?
Not given up yet?
Are you still working?
Will you continue??
Or give a deep sigh and go back to the habitual?
I am a bridge.
Across me one walks from shore to shore. For everyone – the bridge has always existed. And it always will.
And suddenly – “metal fatigue” (Poncelet was a romantic!)
And the bridge is no more.
Well, man gets used to everything – we shall live on opposite shores…
But that will happen later, not soon.
But now –
Walk across me to visit one another, with bread wrapped in a linen cloth, with sweets for the children…
Pause in the middle, throw a crust of bread, the fish will splash…
And in the black roughened mirror of water you’ll hear the song of these execution days
Your humble servant (obs.)
Text: Anton Adasinsky
Translation: Ruth O’Dowd & Pavel Glebov
Photo: Valeria Erza