June would be clammy, January crisp;
and concrete solid, sand unstable.
For there was order. Real order.
People got up and went to work.
And then they watched The Happy FeIlas
at cinemas. For there was order.
In pedigrees and in parades,
political police, and apparatus,
even in parodies — there was order.
People made fun, and were afraid,
only of those they were supposed to,
for there was order, real order.
An order of the bent and bashed.
In hours, in minutes, and in seconds,
in years as well, there was real order.
It would have gone on without end,
but then a certain person fell,
and all this order went to hell.
Июнь был зноен. Январь был зябок.
Бетон был прочен. Песок был зыбок.
Порядок был. Большой порядок.
С утра вставали на работу.
Потом «Веселые ребята»
в кино смотрели. Был порядок.
Он был в породах и парадах,
и в органах, и в аппаратах,
в пародиях — и то порядок.
Над кем не надо — не смеялись,
кого положено — боялись.
Порядок был — большой порядок.
Порядок поротых и гнутых,
в часах, секундах и минутах,
в годах — везде большой порядок.
Он длился б век и вечность длился,
но некий человек свалился,
и весь порядок — развалился.
«December… Snowdrifts in the yard… / Your words and you I still remember; / How in the snow-night, silver-starred, / So shyly shook your every member. In pearly lace of old Marseilles / You day-dreamed by the velvet curtain: / Around you suitors eyed their prey / On low-slung sofas, ...»
«When our vigor is descending, / And strength beginning to decay, / We must, like temporary tenants, / For new arrivals clear the way. Then save us, our guardian angel, / From harsh reproofs and petty fuss, / From calumny against the changes / The future has in store for us. Let us not ...»
«As Darkness descends on the ocean, / As Night spreads her silvery veil, / A brigantine cuts through the waters / And glides downwind at full sail. Her tall topsail masts are not bending, / Her vanes are not moved by the air, / Her cannons face open deck hatches / With silent indifferent...»
«When our decrepit energies turn traitor, / when, like former tenants, / we let our house to the young, / save us then, good spirit, / from faint-hearted reproaches, / from slander, from animosity / at our changing life, / from feelings of suppressed spite / at the world which is bein...»