THIS IS WHAT THE MAN SAID

Malevich

THIS IS WHAT THE MAN SAID

Tonight, I heard a man say, firmly, and with absolute certainty
That, standing in a holy place, drowned by light and washed with colour,
He had caught a glimpse of heaven.
A glimpse of heaven!
Well, then!

He said shafts of sunshine falling through tall windows
Had fallen on his shoulders; delicate green shadows
Catching his lively face, his tapping fingers.
When the sound of pipe and small drum began to practise living,
Lifting the silence, lifting the weight of emptiness,
He had caught a glimpse of heaven.
A glimpse of heaven!
Well, then!

He dryly observed dust motes dancing, registered
How the clear, cold colour of great flowers
Delighting in fabulous vases, carried the tiny clutch of merry daisies
Resting in tin lids of water were carried with them.
Their wild and holy perfume, their tiny constant fragrance
Filling the candle-lit darkness.
Noting his feet, stone still and waiting, yet in their visiting,
He had caught a glimpse of heaven.
A glimpse of heaven!
Well, then!

But was he who he thought he was?
Those feet his own feet or the feet of the restless soldier
Standing beside him.
Stone mouth wide open, dusty tongue
Ready to confirm with clarity and with vision,
He had caught a glimpse of heaven!
A glimpse of heaven!
Well, then!

   Well, then.

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