Closing the steel door of my apartment,
I lock one deadbolt but not the other:
three bolts are about as good as eight.
The light of the lift call button is red,
the cables squeak as the car rises.
The doors of the lift screech open.
As I press 1, the circle around the button glows.
Six, five, four, three, two, one, screech again.
The white-haired woman under the reading lamp looks up,
and I say "Dobriy ranok, yak viy?"
She replies, "Den' dobriy - kudy viy hoditeh syohodni?"
and unlocks the outer door.
I say "Yak zavzhdi, zustrichy".
Descending the five steps,
I view the weather through the glass door -
gray again, but no rain.
It will be a good day.
Author notes
"Dobriy ranok, yak viy?" Good morning, how are you?
"Den' dobriy - kudy viy hoditeh syohodni?" Good day - where are you going today?
"Yak zavzhdi, zustrichy". As usual, meetings.
In a list
Please tell me what you think.
Comments
1 - 9 of 9
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"gray again, but no rain.
It will be a good day."
An interesting contrast, and maybe I am focusing on it needlessly, but it struck me.
I'm guessing there are a lot of gray days there...and again it's that whole winter thing we discussed a while back...10 of winter, two of rough sledding...the gray days without rain are the good ones.
Thanks for the translations, without them I would have missed a little of the atmosphere, the matter-of-fact...here it is, this is my day...this is my life., where focusing on detail take on an importance...nothing else is happening...so "I" think of deadbolts and notice red buttons and the screeching of the left...it both gives to a quiet solemnity and to a lonliness.
And you've put all that in there, for the attentive reader to uncover. Thanks.
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Thank you Yem - this is my life, most of the day to day interactions with strangers are in my funny Ukrainian. Here you realize that if you need sun to be happy, there is something wrong with your attitude. Rain is a complication, that's all. Thanks for the deep look.
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The poetry That Is....
.....Life.
Beautifully painted, exquisite detail. Life Is (Go)od!
Rahad
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Dear Margaret,
Your poem reminds me of the Hillbilly and his son who were in a big city hotel, watching the lift (elevator) in amazement as an old woman entered it, the doors closed,
the lift rose a few floors then returned and a gorgeous young woman stepped out.
The hillbilly turned to his son and said: "Go get your mother!"
You describe this rather mundane incident precisely and vividly. The first stanza evokes poignant memories to me of my childhood when people were honest and we didn't even bother to lock our doors! Wow!! A STEEL door?
I like the more positive, if grey, ending and hope your meeting went well.
Applause, love and hugs, XXX Hugh.
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That's a great anecdote!
We joke about our apartment, we call it the palace of security. That is the way it came equipped, and we try not to worry about crime. Most problems in this city are thefts and confidence scams, and our door is only good against the first.
The meetings are all good, thanks!
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Just like the pull of the elevator,
your words attach us to the page,
caught in a moment of your "good day."
The ordinary IS extraordinary!
M-C
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Thank you M-C! I like that - what we do with attention is always interesting.
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Happiness is joining you on your adventure outdoors on a gray day. What a lovely poem you have written, good poet.
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Thank you RoseAnne, I'm glad you enjoyed reading. Welcome to AP!
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