Georgy Ivanov
Oh, how fastidious you once were...

You were given an incomprehensible name.
Yon are oblivion.
Or, more accurately, potassium cyanide Is your name.
Georgy Adamovich

Oh, how fastidious you once were,
My friends.
You did not drink vodka, could not abide it.
You preferred Nuit St. Georges.

Now our daily bread is potassium cyanide.
Mercuric chloride, our drink.
No matter. We got used to it, we grew accustomed.
And did not go out of our minds.

Quite the contrary even — we resist evil
In this senselessly wicked world.
In a sepulchral waltz, the tenderly couples
Whirl at the emigre ball.

Translated by Daniel Weissbort