Стихи Джозефа Фазано в переводах Ала Пантелята

Joseph Fasano

Now I watch my father turn and walk out
to the pastures where his mares are.
Alone, he lets his hands
drift over the deep chords in their
bodies, closing his blind eyes to that music.

The wind wades in dark boots
from the orchard,
steadying his shoulder through his hard time.

Now he is listening for beginning.
Now he is lying
among that sinew,
asking, as a boy would, where his song goes.

But he knows, he knows, he knows.
He knows
as long as love
runs, it is earthsong; it is wild
to be ridden in its irons
to another world. Another world. This one.