Yes, I'll die! Will it matter?
I am ready to use my gun!
I will then only need a coffin,
With some luck a half decent one.
Does it really have to be decent?
Better make it snappy, be gone!
Any sign of me will be trampled
By the boots of some other bum.
I know nothing will change for the better,
As our universe could not care less
And the sun will keep shining brightly,
High above this world's filthy mess.
Да, умру я!
И что ж такого?
Хоть сейчас из нагана в лоб!
Может быть,
гробовщик толковый
смастерит мне хороший гроб..
А на что мне хороший гроб-то?
Зарывайте меня хоть как!
Жалкий след мой
будет затоптан
башмаками других бродяг.
И останется всё,
как было —
на Земле,
не для всех родной...
Будет так же
светить Светило
на заплёванный шар земной!..
«I’ll be late to our fixed / Appointment. Having stopped spring / In time, into the bargain — I’ll be grey. / You’ve fixated too much on this! I’ll walk for years — and never falter / In my Ophelia’s taste for bitter rue! / I’ll walk through hills — and hayricks, / I’...»
«God 1 Face without aspect. / Serenity. — Charm. / All who share flesh / In you are rehearsed. Like fallen leaves, / Like loose gravel. / All who make outcry / In you are silenced. Rime grown over rust — / Over blood — over steel. / All who lie facedown / In you are risen.»
«God 2 Beggars’ and doves’ / Lonely run of scales. / These would be your / Clothes laid out over / A run of trees? Groves’, copses’. / Books and temples / Returned to us — you rise up. / Like a secret escort / Pine forests rush by: / — We hurry! — And won’t let yo...»
«God 3 O, there’s no fastening him / To your symbols and cares! / He slips through the least chink, / Like the sveltest gymnast... By drawbridges and / Migratory flocks, / By telegraph poles / God — escapes us. O, there’s no schooling him / To stay and accept fate! / In the ...»