Latvian Feature
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This poem appeared in: Contemporary East European Poetry: An Anthology, ed.George Emory. Oxford University Press, 1993.
Astrīde Ivaska
You were the first to leave
of our summer friends.
Between yourhouse and the granary
are still woodlands—
slender birchesand the junipers’
bristly fur coats
against fresh pinegrowth,
tight in the darkness.
Strawberry beds relax under thesnow,
the hawk that was hung up as scarecrow
stiffens. Life haslifted off on waxen wings.
The lathe drowses in the granary,
unused blocks of birch wood
feel about with their blind eyes.
Onthis island frozen in snow, twilight settles.
Each day at thishour
on the sills, cabinets, shelves,
the cranes stretch outtheir necks and softly
begin calling in the silence.
Translated by Inara Cedrins
