I am Goya by Andrey Voznesensky

pushing
I am Goya
of the bare field, by the enemy’s beak gouged
till the craters of my eyes gape
I am grief

duodark

I am the tongue
of war, the embers of cities
on the snows of the year 1941
I am hunger

inkcomposer

I am the gullet
of a woman hanged whose body like a bell
tolled over a blank square
I am Goya

flare

O grapes of wrath!
I have hurled westward
the ashes of the uninvited guest!
and hammered stars into the unforgetting sky – like nails
I am Goya

moscowgoya1

Translated by Stanley Kunitz