Rebellion of machines
Escape — to yourself, to republic of Haiti, to churches, to toilets,
to Egypt —
Escape!
The heaps of machines roar and mew, smoke and fume, they are angry:
"We are hungry"
Dark machines, like Batus, have enslaved us:
"Mercedes!"
Their arrogant myrmidons,
Drinking from glass gasoline,
Figure out: whoever in England
Has started rebellion against the machine?
Let's flee! I'll join in!..
At night, overcoming its fear,
Robot says to inventor:
"My dear,
Give me your wife, if you can,
You know, I am fond of brunettes
I love her for all I am worth
So you had better give in!"
Oh, things most predacious of all!
The veto is put on the soul.
We flee to the hills and speak in our beards,
We jump into the water, naked,
But rivers get shallow, or
Fish die in the sea ever more.
Our women give birth to Rolls-Royces
Radiation rejoices!
...My souls is a little wild animal
Walking around back streets
Like a puppy with a piece of rope
You whine, run around and hop.
The time is now whistles nicely
Over fiery Tennessee
Sophisticated like Sirin
With the light-alloy chassis.
Бунт машин
Бегите — в себя, на Гаити, в костелы, в клозеты,
в Египты —
Бегите!
Ревя и мяуча, машинные толпы дымятся:
«Мяса!»
Нас темные, как Батыи,
Машины поработили.
В судах их клевреты наглые,
Из рюмок дуя бензин,
Вычисляют: кто это в Англии
Вел бунт против машин?
Бежим!..
А в ночь, поборовши робость,
Создателю своему
Кибернетический робот:
«Отдай,— говорит,— жену!
Имею слабость к брюнеткам,— говорит.—
Люблю на тридцати оборотах.
Лучше по-хорошему отдайте!..»
О хищные вещи века!
На душу наложено вето.
Мы в горы уходим и в бороды,
Ныряем голыми в воду,
Но реки мелеют, либо
В морях умирают рыбы...
От женщин рольс-ройсы родятся..
Радиация!..
...Душа моя, мой звереныш,
Меж городских кулис
Щенком с обрывком веревки
Ты носишься и скулишь!
А время свистит красиво
Над огненным Теннесси,
Загадочное, как сирин
С дюралевыми шасси.
«3 Liquid ringing, meager ringing. / To all sides I'm curtsying. Cry of infant, cow's roar. / The tsar's daring word. Lashes' whistling, snow full of blood. / The dark word of Love. The pigeons' quiet noise. / The Shooter's black eyes.»
«In vain, Cavalier de Grie, / Do you dream of the full of beauty, / Autocratic - her self not ruling — / And voluptuous Manon. From your rooms we are succeeding / In a flock tired and willing. / They recall us not past the evening. / Be obedient — such is the law. We are coming in ...»
«Going to war, the word "Marina" / Within your cutlass you did draft. / In your magnificent existence / I was your first one and your last. A night and pre-dawn I remember / In hell of the soldiers' rail car. / In chest I keep the shoulder pieces / And in the wind I rush my hair.»
«1 White army, your way's a high one: / Temple and chest — to the black gun. White and divine is your cause: / Your white body — into the sand. Not a flock of swans in the sky: / The sacred white army / Melts, melts with white sight.. The last dream of the old world: / Youth — V...»