Excerpt from

 

Chapter Seven
from Oxota – A Short Russian Novel

 

One person believes in nothing and another dislikes poetry
They don't present equal dangers to society
The lowness of the light stole the field from its shadows
An old babushka on the ice atop the ridge of snow packed
          beside the street
In deed and word
She was hissing
And a pedestrian screaming, what are doing up there, you
          stupid old woman