Kārlis Vērdiņ
Like a picture
Take me from that plane, from the heavy gold frame of a large picture. See—I'm standing up to my knees in a compost pile. Second from the left, in a suit, flowers in hand. Lips squeezed shut, a smile running along the chin. I look furtively glace—you have come with someone else and will stay later at the ball.

Nice to meet you, I'm a pumpkin. But tonight your hands will turn me into a stagecoach. It will take you to the open, dirty countryside—you'll open the door and watch how the rain aspires to draw thin strokes down your face.

Translated by M.O.Beitiks
Kārlis Vērdiņ
fot. Marina Schukina

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