Daniil Kharms

I know the reason



I know the reason that the roads
breaking away from the earth
play with the birds,
tumbledown boughs of wind
sway the tiny baskets sewn by woodpeckers.
The woodpeckers run about the tree trunks
holding little pencils in their hands.
There, a bottle flies out of a hollow,
directing its flight toward the lake
in order to fill itself up with water--
won't the oak be ecstatic
when a heart of water
is placed in its center.
I was walking past two doves.
The doves knocked their wings together
in an attempt to frighten a fox
that was eating the doves' chicks
with its sharpened paws.
I lifted my notebook, opened it
and read seventeen words
I had come up with the night before--
in a moment the doves flew away
and the fox turned into a little match box.
And I was incredibly happy.

 

trns. by Matvei Yankekevich

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