Someone spotted a fruit, still green, Shook the tree, and it fell to the ground... Hereís one who had no chance to sing, Never knew that his voice had a sound. Maybe something went wrong with his fate, Maybe something with chance was amiss. The guitar string had tightly been laid On the frets with a flaw that he missed. He started humbly with a "do", But no one happened to adore His first accord that fell so flat And disappeared in a trice. A dog was barking, and a cat Was chasing mice... Itís so funny, is it not? He had no chance to show his wit, To taste his wine... He never got To even take a nip of it. Only started an argument, yet He was timid and slow to begin, And his soul, like droplets of sweat From the pores, dripped from under his skin. Only started a duel, again So slowly, like never before, Only grasping the rules of the game, While the judge hadnít opened the score. To know all heíd always strive, And yet he never quite arrived... He had no chance to reach his peak, To search below, to seek above, And her, the only and unique - To love enough... Itís so funny, is it not? He hurried, ran, but all in vain. All questions that he never got To solve in time - unsolved remain. Not a letter of mine is a lie: He was faithful to his pure style - On the snow he was writing her rhyme... But the snow would melt in a while. It was snowing back then, and at least He was free on the snow to pen, And the large snowflakes with his lips He was trying to catch as he ran. To her, in a silver-gilt landau He never made it before dawn. He had no time to leap, to fly, Never quite ran, the runaway. His star sign - Taurus - was up high Lapping the ice-cold Milky Way. Itís so funny, is it not? When seconds lack and time is tight... One missing link, and all you got - A halted flight!.. Seemed funny, didnít it? Of course, To you and even me, it did. A bird in flight, a racing horse... Whose fault is it?..
© Eugenia Weinstein. Translation, 1999