The Russian violin

“The Chase” by Asya Yordanova

Melancholy’s melody

The ray blinks opening the grave

Burning cypress trees

The wolf’s howl

Raven’s wings beat

The dark night

Groping blind

Falling snow

Ripping the sleepy dawn

In the night where earth, water and air let pass

All those who navigate without making noise

Through the storms of pain

In the distance, the sound of the Russian violin

Sighs in the proud’s ears

And writes in cyrillic

“From here you will not pass”