Sunday, November 8, 2009


By Pavel Chichikov

Everything You touch becoming royal,
Pearl of frost enamels trampled leaves,
Someone has encrusted winter cinquefoil
Artisan, my innocence believes

Only this, by crossing through the green,
Craftsmanship that no one can deny,
And if a random handiwork be seen,
What may be the secret of the eye?

Answer goes to answer—man, look down,
There is no low or high but only this:
Everything with majesty is sown,
Everything returning to its bliss

Only this, look down and you will see,
Wake from heaviness and come with Me

By Pavel Chichikov

The creek has not yet frozen
But shaven winter vines
Naked since October
Tangle their designs

Arching wooden bridges
Slippery with snow
Jump between the edges
The running stream below

Freezing water crystals
Around a grain of sand,
Makes a river metal
A running river stand

I saw a bird of winter
Flutter on a perch,
Snow descending gathers
An ivory winter church

Everything that’s needed
Except a sacrifice,
And then will be completed
Solemnities of ice

The Poetry of Pavel Chichikov

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