by Sergej Timofejev
translated by Kevin M. F. Platt

Stimulants are activated,
and effects increase.
Consequences are not far behind.
The sum total locks in a shift in habitual outlines.
Violet spotlights.  Orange spotlights.
We see fragments of reality caught in the light
As confirmations of the stated tendencies.
New arguments impudently get underway,
And fall, cut down by contradictory conclusions.
But even so the discussion’s logic burns on, like an oil flame
blazing above,
In which all that is said will be incinerated without pity,
Until the mica of truth finally solidifies.
Yet still it will convince no one.

by Sergej Timofejev
translated by Kevin M. F. Platt

The provincialism of the air,
Provincialism of the water.
The provincialism of the glass
holding back the pressure of air and water.
The provincialism of conditions behind the glass
holding back the pressure of air and water.
The provincialism of the person who lives
In the conditions behind the glass
holding back the pressure of air and water.
The possible predetermination of all of this.
The ritual of morning coffee and news on the radio.
A little note on the table: “No one here knows anything.
— possibly, just out of the loop.  Don’t get ahead of events.”
The sound of the gas lighting up in the boiler:
confident, businesslike, cognizant
of its own meaning and the scale of the mission.

by Liliya Gazizova
translated by Andrei Gritsman

* * *

I’ll be a lighthouse keeper
No, better hiswife.
I’d rise at dawn
And cook him a simple meal.
I’ll watch him eat
Silently and unhurriedly.
I will come to him in the afternoon
With a thermos of hot coffee.
I’ll watch him drink it
Peering into the horizon.
I will notice how the color of his eyes changes
Depending on his mood
Or time of day.
I will know little about him
And I will not seek to learn more.
In the evening I will fall asleep alone
Not waiting for him.
I will dream about ships
Taking me away
From that damn lighthouse . . .
I will get up at dawn.

by Liliya Gazizova
translated by Anna Halberstadt

* * *

A woman to a woman is a country
A woman to a woman is a war

A woman to a woman is a cause
A woman to a woman is a man

A woman to a woman is a curbe
A woman to a woman is a slap in the face

A woman to a woman is a woman

* * *

Mommy-mommy, they are killing each other!
Can you pull me back inside you?

Mommy-mommy, they don’t look like people!
This world doesn’t resemble the world.

Mommy-mommy, we are neglected here.
All the elders have disappeared!

I wish I could return to the amniotic fluid
Turn into a brainless entity of flesh.