Russian Recreation
H
Herbert Nehrlich
0
Altın Yaprak
He liked his Sunday afternoons,
only the privileged deserved
the sanctuary of a datsha
out in its splendid isolation.
Hot lava rocks, reflecting heat
of Northern Hemlock panels, grooved,
and twigs of birch, so tightly bundled
to beat the sweating hide, once in a while.
A splash of watery extract of Georgian Pine
onto the rocks, alerting with a rush
the breathing paths of those who rest,
while busy servants bring new buckets,
full of ice, and well-chilled steins with stems
to complement the elixir of life and limb.
Which is, in parts like these, called 'little water',
or Vodka, just to let you know the truth.
A burning skin, dilation at extreme
will still accommodate an afternoon of drink.
It is the Russian way to recharge batteries,
and only the elite is thus rewarded.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş