Слободкина Ольга
The leaves are all gone

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  • © Copyright Слободкина Ольга (olga_slobodkina@mail.ru)
  • Размещен: 24/10/2025, изменен: 14/11/2025. 3k. Статистика.
  • Стихотворение: Поэзия
  • Иллюстрации/приложения: 27 шт.
    •   The leaves are all gone...
       Only the maple tree's staying up -
      yellow, but fresh
       like some elders
      walking with Swedish sticks round the Park...
      
      "Not an invalid,
       a sportsman!" -
      my mom used to say...
      
      Now her grave is all covered
       by maple leaves...
      
      I'll have to get it cleaned
       over and over again
      until
       they're down,
      all down...
      
      It's cold
       and machines
      are all over the Park
       brushing away the leaves...
      
      There is no peace...
      
      I can stand
       the swish of a broom,
      but the heartless machines...
      
      The whole City's continually dug through...
      
      Only the River...
       But even the way to the River
      was dug up...
      
      My City will never be quiet...
      
      If machines
       clean the graves in the future
      I really don't want to lie there...
      
      Shall we find any Peace in That World?
      
      
       ***
      
      And everything fails you -
       people and things...
      Even my page was deleted,
       the page of my happiness
      and recognition...
      
      Why should it be so?
       Who knows...
      
      Luckily,
       I can still walk...
      So I walk round the Park
       thinking about the life
      that we have
       and about the Life
      we shall have...
      
      P.S. Yesterday I read:
      George White died last August...
       His heart failed him...
      
      I was his personal translator
      in 1988
      
      https://lit.lib.ru/editors/s/slobodkina_o/throughtheeyesofthetranslator.shtml
      
      https://www.google.com/search?q=george+white+eugene+o+neill+theater&oq=George+White&gs_lcrp=EgZjaHJvbWUqEAgAEEUYExgnGDsYgAQYigUyEAgAEEUYExgnGDsYgAQYigUyBggBEEUYOTIHCAIQLhiABDIHCAMQABiABDIHCAQQABiABDIGCAUQRRg8MgYIBhBFGEEyBggHEEUYQdIBCDgzODBqMWo3qAIAsAIA&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8
      
      And Jaque d'Anmoise's later
      
      
      P.P.S. I haven't been to the Park
      for some time
      and things seem to be new.
      Why can I never portray
      what I see?
      
      
      
      Oct. 23, 2025
      
      P.P.P.S. The squirrels are flying so high,
      high above...
      from a branch to a branch,
      from a tree to a tree...
      How do they do that?
      I have no ide...
      Poets don't know either
      how they write their po-
      et-
      ry...
      
      
  • © Copyright Слободкина Ольга (olga_slobodkina@mail.ru)
  • Обновлено: 14/11/2025. 3k. Статистика.
  • Стихотворение: Поэзия
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