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270 pages, Paperback
First published October 30, 1985
On this day of sky-blue bears
Running across quiet eyelashes,
I divine beyond the blue waters
In the cup of my eyes an order to wake.
The silver spoon of my extended eyes
Offers me a sea buoying a storm petrel;
And I see how the Russian bird flies
Through unknown lashes to the roaring sea.
The naked freedom is coming
Casting flowers on our hearts
And, keeping in step, with heaven
We talk, having equal rights.
We, soldiers, will strike in a strict way
At stern shields with our hands:
Let the people become the king now,
Forever, in all lands!
Let maidens sing at the windows
Amid the songs of the ancient campaign
About the Sun’s true people – The autocratic men.
Voice of Consciousness Thought conquers all. Loneliness is thought's companion. You have to keep your distance from people.
Voice of Sight Pigeons fly into the garden. Pigeons fly away.
Voice of Hearing The gate is opening again.
Voice of Will I won't say a word. I am keeping my distance from people.
And from now on you remember: whenever you kill a bird, you kill something in yourself.
The bullwhip, which is a close cousin to the bolo they use further north, was something he was a real expert with; he used it the way the Kirghiz tribesmen do. He used it to hunt wolves. His trained eagles were more relentless than Borzois, and they would track the wolf out into the steppe and follow him till he was worn out and didn't care anymore what happened to him.
Then the obedient ambler would quicken his pace to a gallop, and Gali would lean down and finish off the wolf with his bullwhip.
His eyes, too openly expressive of nothing, might tell you that he was a hunter, indifferent to human society and even bored by it.
Once they had reached their destination the boat was turned upside down and during the day it served as a shelter, supported on iron rods.
We tried to stay clear of trains and kept hearing the drone of Sikorsky airplanes.