Catastrophe

I have two versions of the poem, and posting both.

1. How do lights from the heavens fade
On grey concrete.
And divine music is buried
In traffic choked lanes
And calls of a market
That sells joys
To those who can afford.

My destitute indifference
Stole a moment
And a smile
By the Volga.
The wind roars
And birds scream
All in jest
But my petit existence
Trembles.

There are things bigger
Than rulers coming to power
Or civilisations collapsing.
Scarier than stock markets crashing
Or bubbles bursting.

If the Volga
And Ganga
Conspire to break their barriers
A thousand uprisings noted in history
Would be insignificant.
There was only one great flood.

2. How do lights from the heavens fade
On grey concrete
And divine music is buried
In traffic choked lanes
And calls of a market place.

I steal a moment
By the Volga
The wind roars
And birds scream
All in jest.

There are things bigger
Than rulers coming to power
Or being dismissed
Or stock markets crashing
Or bubbles bursting.

If the Volga
And Ganga
Conspire to break their barriers
A thousand uprisings noted in history
Would be insignificant.
There was only one great flood.

Saba

(Written on the bank of River Volga, Uglich, Russia.)
July 20, 2017.