from THIRTY-SIX VIEWS OF THE LENA RIVER / Diaana Afanasyeva

     V – (its reflectings)

A golden river sweeps along the base
of that cupola: the gold convexity, the flame.

But I more wonder what this church is like,
faintly warping on the slow, grey water—

Whose bells must seem a lapping on the ears
that pull one, slightly, just before they toll.

     VII – (its extremities)

What is wider than the river, and longer—
What is heavier than the river,
And taller than its whole reflected world?

Ah, the impossible is much greater—
Both this impossible: of dirt, and ice,
And this one: which is with the stars.

     XIV – (its drunkenness)

the rain starts with such a
sweetly falling sound of return:
like fingertips drumming skin—
all up and down the river up and down it
this faint, universal drumming
of likes, of like returned to like,
new rain to the old river, the endless,
the endless endless drinker of 

touch!

Diaana Afanaseva is a poet born in Yakutsk and raised in Brooklyn. She is pursuing postdoctoral studies at NYU and works as a translator and editor. Her poetry and translations have been featured widely in anthologies and journals such as The Art of Poetry, BOMB, The Nation, and others. She is the recipient of an NEA fellowship in literature.