Wednesday, March 12, 2014
I regret that I'm not a beast
running along a blue path,
telling myself to believe
and my other self to wait a little,
I'll go out with myself to the forest
to examine the insignificant leaves.
* * *
And then there's this grudge that I bear,
that I'm not a rug, nor a hydrangea.
I regret I'm not a roof
falling apart little by little,
which the rain soaks and softens,
whose death is not sudden.
I don't like the fact that I'm mortal,
I regret that I am not perfect.
– Alexander Vvedensky (1904-1941)
from An Invitation for Me to Think
translated from Russian by Eugene Ostashevsky
Above, five pieces by Ania Wawrzkowicz
Below, five pieces by Amber Whitney