‘I go up to the tree…’ (Tamerlan Tadtaev)

I go up to the tree
and touch it with my hand.

I like you, I say,
even though you’ve shed your leaves.

With your slender twigs you cross-hatch
the sky, white as drawing paper…

Forgive me, in my place
you would do just the same.

And, after spitting on my hands,
I take up the axe.

Тамерлан Тадтаев

Тамерлан Тадтаев

Подхожу к дереву
и касаюсь рукой.

Ты нравишься мне, говорю ему,
хоть и сбросило листву.

Тонкими ветвями штрихуешь
белое, как ватман, небо…

Прости, на моем месте
ты поступило бы так же.

И, поплевав на руки,
берусь за топор.

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