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The Wanderer

By Platonov, Andre

In the world are distant roads...

In the world are distant roads,
A field and a quiet mother,
Profound dark nights -
Together we wait for no one.
You will open to a wanderer at midnight,
A friend forgotten will come in.
You won't hide your secret soul,
The wanderer will see and understand.
The sky is high and quiet,
Stars are radiant with centuries.
In the field is neither a wind, nor a cry,
Nor a lonely white willow.
We will go out with the last star
To search for our grandfather's truth...
The centuries will depart in sequence.
And it's not for us to understand even the grass.

Submitted by Dean Kuwata, a most-favored reader, who writes:

from twentieth century poetry: silver and steel: an anthology selected by yevgeny yevtushenko, which i subsequently purchased and did not like that much. sorry. how are you? am not so good. this is not your fault, however. in my wallet, i have been carrying for over a year, now, a poem clipped from the los angeles times book review of a postrevolutionary russian poetry collection; i was always proud of the la times book review, until i saw how weak and anemic it is compared to the big, buff, steroids-enhanced ny times book review. as you know, i write in small letters, mostly out of laziness, but in small part, to honor e.e. cummings, who wrote the fine memoir, the enormous room, and wrote his poetry sans capital letters.

also in my wallet:

• a ticket stub from avco center cinema in westwood for “a beautiful mind.” the 10:30 pm showing
• a shitload of losing lotto tickets
• 187 dollars in american currency
• 7 rupees in nepalese currency, given to me by my explorer/physicist friend, eric, as a souvenir
• a complimentary burger, fries and drink card from “johnny rockets,” after i emailed asking whether it would kill them to sell skinny fries, along with the fat, mealy fries that they favor
• a california basic firearms safety card
• a bunch of credit cards, ca driver's license, health/dental care provider id's,
• a business card from roger's taxi and tours in kauai, where my grandmother lives
• a business card from another physicist friend who worked here, but left for a start up involved in microfluidics
• a business card from china rose express, where i buy my hot and sour soup, but where the rest of the food is mediocre. the cambodian girl behind the counter is so graceful and pretty. but i am old and terrible-looking and angry.
• some postage stamps, because i am always running out, but which i always forget about.

that is all for now, chomondeley, (pronounced, CHUM-LEY), which is how i believe that i shall refer to you from now on, unless you have some impotent objections.

from twentieth century poetry: silver and steel: an anthology selected by yevgeny yevtushenko, which i subsequently purchased and did not like that much. sorry. how are you? am not so good. this is not your fault, however. in my wallet, i have been carrying for over a year, now, a poem clipped from the los angeles times book review of a postrevolutionary russian poetry collection; i was always proud of the la times book review, until i saw how weak and anemic it is compared to the big, buff, steroids-enhanced ny times book review. as you know, i write in small letters, mostly out of laziness, but in small part, to honor e.e. cummings, who wrote the fine memoir, the enormous room, and wrote his poetry sans capital letters.

also in my wallet:

• a ticket stub from avco center cinema in westwood for “a beautiful mind.” the 10:30 pm showing
• a shitload of losing lotto tickets
• 187 dollars in american currency
• 7 rupees in nepalese currency, given to me by my explorer/physicist friend, eric, as a souvenir
• a complimentary burger, fries and drink card from “johnny rockets,” after i emailed asking whether it would kill them to sell skinny fries, along with the fat, mealy fries that they favor
• a california basic firearms safety card
• a bunch of credit cards, ca driver's license, health/dental care provider id's,
• a business card from roger's taxi and tours in kauai, where my grandmother lives
• a business card from another physicist friend who worked here, but left for a start up involved in microfluidics
• a business card from china rose express, where i buy my hot and sour soup, but where the rest of the food is mediocre. the cambodian girl behind the counter is so graceful and pretty. but i am old and terrible-looking and angry.
• some postage stamps, because i am always running out, but which i always forget about.

that is all for now, chomondeley, (pronounced, CHUM-LEY), which is how i believe that i shall refer to you from now on, unless you have some impotent objections.

Submitted by Dean Kuwata, a most-favored reader, who writes:

from twentieth century poetry: silver and steel: an anthology selected by yevgeny yevtushenko, which i subsequently purchased and did not like that much. sorry. how are you? am not so good. this is not your fault, however. in my wallet, i have been carrying for over a year, now, a poem clipped from the los angeles times book review of a postrevolutionary russian poetry collection; i was always proud of the la times book review, until i saw how weak and anemic it is compared to the big, buff, steroids-enhanced ny times book review. as you know, i write in small letters, mostly out of laziness, but in small part, to honor e.e. cummings, who wrote the fine memoir, the enormous room, and wrote his poetry sans capital letters.

also in my wallet:

• a ticket stub from avco center cinema in westwood for “a beautiful mind.” the 10:30 pm showing
• a shitload of losing lotto tickets
• 187 dollars in american currency
• 7 rupees in nepalese currency, given to me by my explorer/physicist friend, eric, as a souvenir
• a complimentary burger, fries and drink card from “johnny rockets,” after i emailed asking whether it would kill them to sell skinny fries, along with the fat, mealy fries that they favor
• a california basic firearms safety card
• a bunch of credit cards, ca driver's license, health/dental care provider id's,
• a business card from roger's taxi and tours in kauai, where my grandmother lives
• a business card from another physicist friend who worked here, but left for a start up involved in microfluidics
• a business card from china rose express, where i buy my hot and sour soup, but where the rest of the food is mediocre. the cambodian girl behind the counter is so graceful and pretty. but i am old and terrible-looking and angry.
• some postage stamps, because i am always running out, but which i always forget about.

that is all for now, chomondeley, (pronounced, CHUM-LEY), which is how i believe that i shall refer to you from now on, unless you have some impotent objections.