Janka Sipakoŭ

A green cloud in the market-place

Come, who buys? I bring to sell

Winds that tall grasses have rocked into slumbering!

Come, who buys? I offer as well

Nightingale songs, meadow-stored beyond numbering!

 

Hurry, hurry ... for I bring to sell

Maytime, drunk with the spring floods to ebriety!

There you are! I've flower-honey as well

Soaked in the humming of bees to satiety.

 

Hurry along there! ... for I bring to sell

Sunshine and lightning (you'll know just by feeling it!)

No need to haggle! A give-away! well,

This green cloud of summer is (there's no concealing it)

A waggon of fragrant new hay!

 

1965

 




Source: Like Water, Like Fire. London, 1971.
Translation: Вера Рыч

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