We have gone mad from endless jubilation
Wine in the morning, hangover at night.
Your blush, oh drunken plague without respite,
How to contain the needless celebration?
Hand-shaking ceremonial and tortuous
And kisses on the street all through the night
When river's waves grow heavy with delight
And in the night the headlights burn like torches.
Like for a fairy wolf we wait for death
And he will be the first to die, I fear,
That has a startling mouth that's red with fear
And hair that falls upon the eyes like sheathe.
От легкой жизни мы сошли с ума:
С утра вино, а вечером похмелье.
Как удержать напрасное веселье,
Румянец твой, о нежная чума?
В пожатьи рук мучительный обряд,
На улицах ночные поцелуи,
Когда речные тяжелеют струи
И фонари, как факелы, горят.
Мы смерти ждем, как сказочного волна,
Но я боюсь, что раньше всех умрет
Тот, у кого тревожно-красный рот
И на глаза спадающая челка.
«I see right through you, Numbers. / I see you dressed in animals, their skins, / coolly propped against uprooted oaks. / You offer us a gift: unity between the snaky movement / of the backbone of the universe and Libra dancing / overhead. You help us to see centuries as a flash / of laug...»
«I don't need much! / A crust of bread, / a cup of milk, / the sky above / and these clouds!»
«The sticky sky smells blue-gray, it's the odor of udder. / Show me some loving, be good to me! / I am bleeding. You are my fatality. / I am nailed up to die on an old empty tree.»
«The moon begins to flow — / reveals herself, / conceals herself, / then somebody squeals: oh! / and disintegrates the sky. / Gloss-face drapes herself / in a chorus of clouds. / Bread's set out on the table. Soup's on. / They say a naked woman / is beautiful by moonlight. / Rou...»