No spring can contain so much rain.
It would be nice to remember all the names.
It would be nice to leave at just the right time and not regret doing it.
It would be nice to know how.
I don’t know how.
Teach me.
But for now, the candles are as damp as matches.
The touch to your hand burns.
Street leaves and nighttime lights burn.
How do you breathe at that depth?
Be glad things are the way that they are.
It would be nice to feel life, knowing that it’s yours.
Feel it when waking up in the morning and falling asleep at night.
It would be nice not to think about you.
I don’t know how.
Teach me.
But this air in May – sharp as glass.
I know it’s what’s troubling you, what happened to you.
I know that you are afraid of your heart.
I know – that’s what you really want.
So much rain – driven on and on.
I know everything that ought to be known by one who knows everything.
Trees overhead. Darkness on my shoulders.
I know everything.
I’m willing to keep learning.
Teach me.

© Serhiy Zhadan

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