Before The Mast / Y. Bilchinsky

Heavenly terrain that breached the source and sparrow,

ravine where tremor breaks out in a lightning trot.

The ricochet of fate against metallic casing

the shell of heaven cling and echoes out to us.

Before the mast, the sails, at last-

the vessel moving through the waves.

They’re breaking backs like solid stone

they pave a path in the unknown.

So eyes that open see the way

that had been trodden once, before.

Now on the path, the sabers crossed

emerged through pain and freedom’s lust.

The road goes on, and time won’t stop.