I am the Smith of everything. I lay
Lethargic bodies' balances and peers.
The luminary and sublunar spheres
I roll as dice. I calculate. I play.
Descriptions pass me by. Equations stay.
Behind your back I am; as heartbeat near.
Demonic anger's burning in the gears —
I rule this age, so bow and obey!
I paved the ways of freedom and compliance,
Amalgamated dogmas, logic, science,
All smells of truth in a convincing farce.
Hemp juice is mine, and so is poppy scatter,
And tiny balls of galaxies and stars
I threw into the boiling pot of matter.
Т. Г. Трапезникову
1
Я дух механики. Я вещества
Во тьме блюду слепые равновесья,
Я полюс сфер — небес и поднебесья,
Я гений числ. Я счётчик. Я глава.
Мне важны формулы, а не слова.
Я всюду и нигде. Но кликни — здесь я!
В сердцах машин клокочет злоба бесья.
Я князь земли! Мне знаки и права!
Я слуг свобод. Создатель педагогик.
Я — инженер, теолог, физик, логик.
Я призрак истин сплавил в стройный бред.
Я в соке конопли. Я в зёрнах мака.
Я тот, кто кинул шарики планет
В огромную рулетку Зодиака!
«It pleases me that I am not your hurt, / It pleases me that you are not my illness, / That as we step upon the heavy Earth, / Its solidness shall never drift beneath us. / It pleases me that I don’t have to flirt, / That I can be relaxed and wordplay-needless, / In suffocating blush no...»
«Hands — in the dips / Of all resold, repledged, repossessed! / It’s just the lips, / The hands I mustn’t confuse with the rest! All those vain / Petty things that steal me from sanity. / Hands to heaven, / Friend, here I plead to my own memory! My poetry / (The dumping ground o...»
«Striking clock welcomes autumn to town: / This year notably heavy and hard, / Fallen fruit hits the ground, and the count / Is the number of fruit in the yard. With this music, important and clear, / Who repeats that the clock must still go? / The old garden performs with no fear / Loo...»
«Night, street, apothecary, lamppost, / Dim light, its mindless vanity. / Live for a century, or almost, — / It will be so. No getaway. Or die — it all will come full circle, / The motion that you will repeat: / Canal, night, rippling icy water, / Lamppost, apothecary, street.»