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This poem is taken from PN Review 218, Volume 40 Number 6, July - August 2014.

Thirty-Nine Rooms translated by J. Kates Nikolai Baitov
1

Here is my room. Lingering dawn fingers
every ghostly object in it. I wake up
and look all around me – my eyeglasses
over there. A watch, a cup.

2

Here is my room. Dust on the icons, thick.
In the cracked icon-lamp a desiccated wick.
Antique books no one has opened, it appears,
for a hundred years.

3

Here is my room, various forces interlacing
among galaxies, black holes, empty spaces,
pulsars, quasars, neutron stars, and in this place
my feeble brain.

4

Here is my room. Come on in, that’s the way.
Akhmetev and I were drinking yesterday.
Not much to eat. Nothing to worry about.
Even a place to sit.

5

Here my room stands between worlds. Enough,
...


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