Innokenty Annensky
Nerves

Record for the Gramophone

How dusty and red hot this street is!
O Lord, what a sad pine tree!
The balcony is under a roof. The wife is winding yarn.
The husband is just sitting. Behind them is canvas like a sail.
Their balcony is built over the very flower bed.
“You think it’s not he... But if it is?”
        Good heavens, she keeps on knitting... “Let’s consider a little...
...Cloudberries, berries, cloudberries!
“Then, if we could only get rid of the lilac-colored copybook?”
— “Ma’am, should we buy some spinach?”
— “Buy some, Annushka!.. —
                                 “And I also saw
A note on the wall there, so...”
                                 ...Good combs!
“But here comes the postman... No letters for Petrov?”
— “The only mail was the newspaper The World.” —
“Well, what then? Have you fixed it?” — “I burnt it in the stove.” —
“What carelessness!.. In front of her? But here I’ve
Decided it like this: first I’ll think it over,
And later I’ll place all the facts before you...
Have we something else we ought to slip out of sight?”
— “I’ve burnt every thing.” — Sighing, she silently counts
The stitches... “Haven’t you noticed: for the third
Time today some gentleman has been going past us?”
— “But don’t quite a few walk past?”... —
                             “But this one searches and scours about.
And you can see from his eyes that he’s a detective...”
—- “What have we got that has to be searched? Good heavens!”
— “And why doesn’t Vasia find his way home?”
— “The house porter has come to the master to get the passports.”
— “Come to me! What day is it?” — “It’s Tuesday.”
—“Wouldn’t you like to go to him, my friend? I am unwell...”
                     ...Fresh lilies of the valley, lilies of the valley!
“Well what? What happened about the house porter? Shouldn’t we
               pay him a bit more?” — “But what nonsense! What for?” —
...Any razors to sharpen?
“Sit down quietly. Puss, puss, puss...”
— “Ah, really, you’d better go and get some fresh air!
Or do you imagine that it’s pleasant for me to suffer?..” -
                             ..Fresh eggs, eggs!
Nice fresh eggs?
But their bad temper has poured out and gone...
They sit in opposite corners and both weep...
How dusty and red hot this street is!
O Lord, what a sad pine tree!

Translated by R. H. Morrison