Photo by Brendan Elliott

From the Steppes of Central Asia:

Variations on a Theme by Borodin

(Wedding Poem for Joseph & Ebru)

1.  Wind

В Степи Средной Азии

[V’ Stepi Srednoy Azii]:

In the steppes of central Asia,

The wind sprang up that blows across

Our faces as we stand here above the sea;

Waves of water and seas of grass,

Across a thousand miles it reaches us

In this place where we have come to meet it.

            *          *          *

Although you grew up hemispheres apart,

The wind has now blown the two of you together.

Separately, you hang-glided, sailed or flew across oceans;

You have traveled far in your lives to get here,

And now take wing together, riding the wind

On a bay broad enough for your spirits to soar.

And you know that the name of that wind is love.

2. Words

В Степи Средной Азии

[V’ Stepi Srednoy Azii]:

In the steppes of central Asia,

The words we speak today were first spoken.

Not in India or in Europe or even in Turkey,

But in those wide and windy spaces where

The words flowed freely though the long nights,

Crafted around campfires, whispered in felt huts

By shamans, chiefs, grannies and children.

These words we speak today are theirs

            *          *          *

You two grew up speaking different languages,

Mutually incomprehensible; yet you found your way

To each other by following Ariadne’s golden thread:

The common language of computers, the new

Anti-tower of Babel, the network that makes us one:

New age shamans, info moms, cell-phone start-ups,

Computer savvy nieces and nephews.

We are learning that love is infinitely scalable.

3. Horses

В Степи Средной Азии

[V’ Stepi Srednoy Azii]:

In the steppes of central Asia,

Both sets of your ancestors watched the wild horses,

Watched them long and learned their ways,

Until they finally caught and tamed them.

So the wild horses became people-horses,

And those who walked before, became horse-peoples.

With their horses’ help, the Indo-Europeans wandered

All over Eurasia, from India to Ireland;

And when the Turks got up on horseback,

They roamed from China to the gates of Vienna

(Slips-jigs and reels; Jannisary marches).

Catching and taming those they found and conquered,

They transformed themselves, in the process creating networks

Of patch-work peoples united by language.

*          *          *

Once, I am quite sure, the two of you each

Ran through your families like wild horses,

Perhaps, on occasion, even attacking guests,

Throwing food, making small weapons, or horsing around.

One of you roamed, from the gates of Istanbul to LA,

The other, from India to the bulls in Pamplona.

You left home and family to travel far away.

And eventually you found and learned the magic

Of being tamed without having your spirits broken.

And you know that the name of that magic is love.

4. Caravan

В Степи Средной Азии

[V’ Stepi Srednoy Azii]:

In the steppes of central Asia.

You are like Borodin’s musical depiction:

A caravan slowly approaches in the distance,

Across the windy, flat land, horses and camels,

And distant singing voices, carried on the wind.

Then suddenly you are here, bursting upon us;

Filled with manic, romantic energy,

You sweep us up in the whirlwind of your excitement,

The rush of words, too fast to be understood.

“Hold onto your horses,” we want to say,

But it is too late, the party is upon us,

And we must join, until you go on without us,

Leaving our heads spinning, breathless, without words,

In the Steppes of Central Asia.

And the name of that caravan is love.

                                                -Robert Elliott, September 25, 2004