Václav Z. J. Pinkava: Jezero

[chaffinch1]

I will have to have a go in English


Lake

Above the frozen bubbles' Milky way,
a spellbound crystal surface, smoothly iced,
above its lakebed pebbles' interplay
with antipodal hanging figure, spliced,
a man propels, on blades acutely honed,
perambulates by undulating weight,
each frozen line inscribed, engraved, intoned,
onto the glassy rink to mark his fate:
The ice abducts him, groaning, moaning, swift,
sudden cracks, elongating, ominous,
the Pilgrim, fearless, goes on, heeds no rift,
in languid strides that bark with hollowness.
Above, below, the deep blue sky's terrain
vapoured, a skate trail, bipedally twain.