Igor Severyanin
Not with «those» guys, nor with «these» guys...

Not with «those» guys, nor with «these» guys,
From both equally aside,
Nowadays, all bring but disgust,
And by neither I abide.

Folks I pity, to hate loyal,
Poison semi-lives with feud,
And God bless them, vile, annoying.
This humanity is crude.

Do all conquests and inventions,
All discoveries, so tough
And all knowledge have intentions
Of uprooting human love?

In the fever of the arms race,
All the young and the grey-haired,
Find a cause to fight and fill graves.
Neighbors, of each other scared.

The enlightenment of science,
Stirs a war that can't be won.
From grandchildren, bitter lines
Shall be heard, and more than one.

And indifference in serfdom,
To victorious grand verse,
Blatant passion, blind and certain,
Prayers for nonsense, can't be worse.

The dream-tormenting small death-cups
And the lisping infants' voice,
Haircuts bracket-like, of world’s cops.
Hogtied dancers, hopeless boys.

Muse is crucified. Her cross shows
That false light just leads to woes.
Not with these folks, nor with those folks,
Since all these are just like those.

Translated by Dmitriy Belyanin