Avôhai

An old man crosses the threshold
With long boots, long beards
The shine of his gold necklace
On the cold slab where he used to sunbathe
His shirt and his hunter's saddlebag

Oh, my old and invisible
Grandfatherhai
Oh, my old and indivisible
Grandfatherhai

Foggy and bright mist
In my brain, clots of sun
Morning amanita
And what a transparent curtain
Around me

And if I say it's half known
You say it's half worse
And worse than a planet
When it loses the sunflower

It's the brilliant rosary
On my grandmother's fingers
And I was never afraid of the gatekeeper again
Nor of the companion
Who never slept alone

Grandfatherhai! Grandfather and father!
Grandfatherhai! Grandfatherhai!

The marsh crosses the dust
Indeed, there is a lighter tone
In the paleness of these people
Pairs of eyes so deep
That embitter the people they gaze upon

But they drink their life
Their soul at the height they command
They are the eyes, they are the wings
Grandfatherhai's hair

On the tourmaline stone
And in the factory yard, I grew up
I flew at dawn
And in the condemned crater, I fell silent

And if I fell silent, it was out of sadness
You fall silent just to be silent
And you keep getting quieter
Only speak when I command

Searching through consciousness, afraid to travel
To the middle of the comet's head
Spinning in the spinning top in the game of improvisation

Intersecting, I follow the straight line inside
I have the right word
So the doctor won't complain
Won't complain!

Grandfatherhai! Grandfather and father!
Grandfatherhai! Grandfatherhai!
Grandfatherhai!