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IN MY SOUL
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1968
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They light up candles for me every evening,
Your fumigated image, is so sweet.
But I dont want to know that time is healing
And everything must pass along with it.
Ill never know the loss of peace and quiet
For all I had, stored in my soul, for a whole year,
She took along with her when setting out
First for the voyage, then for the trip by air.
I have a desert in my soul, all bare.
Why should you stand like that over my empty soul, all
day?
Ive got song snatches and a web in there,
And nothing more, shes taken all away.
My soul has roads without destinations,
Just search it, and youll find for once
Some phrases and unfinished conversations,
The rest is taken up by Paris, France.
They light up candles for me every evening,
Your fumigated image, is so sweet.
But I dont want to know that time is healing,
It doesnt heal but lacerates my feeling
For everything must pass along with it.
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I HAVE TWO SELVES IN ME
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1969
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I am an exotic man, to put it mildly,
My tastes and my demands are rather strange,
I can, for instance, nibble glasses madly,
And read the works of Schiller for a change.
I have two Selves in me, two poles of planet,
Two absolutely different men, two foes,
When one is eager to attend a ballet
The other straight off to the races goes.
I dont take liberties, when I turn out
To be myself, going the whole hog,
My other Self will frequently break out
Appearing as a rascal and a rogue.
And I oppress the scoundrels intrusion,
My life! Ive never known such distress...
Perchance (I am so scared of confusion),
Im not that other Self whom I oppress.
When in my soul I open up the facets
In spots where sincerity should be
I pay the waitresses, on trust, in assets,
And women give me their love for free.
But suddenly all my ideals go to grass, as
Im impatient, angry, rude and such a bore!
I sit like mad, devouring the glasses,
And throwing Schiller down on the floor.
The hearing is on. I stand and speak austerely,
Appealing to the jury, showing tact:
It wasnt me whod smashed the window, really,
It was my other wicked Self, in fact.
Do not be strict to me. Youd better
Give me a chance, but not a prison term.
Ill visit court-rooms just as a spectator
and drop in on the judges as a chum.
I wont smash windows any more, distinctly,
Nor fight in public write it in your scroll !
Ill bring the halves of my split, sickly,
Disintegrated soul into a single whole.
Ill root it out, bury it and quench it;
I want to clear and reveal my soul.
My other Self is alien to my nature,
No, it is not my other Self, at all.
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1972
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Make a bridge on the occasion,
Or a tunnel through the brine,
Come without hesitation
To my shish-kebab and wine.
Put in tune the old guitar which
Youll be coming to me with;
Cheer up, screw up your courage,
Dont forget to hide your teeth.
When you get to the idea
That all roads will lead to Rome
Then you will be welcome here,
Come, well have a chat at home.
Hide your horns and draw your claws in,
Get unrigged, and dont be grim.
Make at least a little crossing,
Throw a pole across the stream.
You had better set about
Mowing, sowing right away.
If you miss the boat, look out,
You will rue the hapless day.
In the morning you will stare
Wondring, as you wake up: who
Laid the bridges here and there,
Without even telling you.
Make at least a river crossing,
Or a tunnel, underneath;
Dont forget to draw your claws in
And to hide your sharpened teeth!
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THE SILLY DREAM
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1978
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The silly dream had beaten me
With a big truncheon,
And in that dream, as I could see,
I wasnt catching.
For in my sleep I told a lie,
Betrayed and dreaded...
I really didnt know that I
Was so degraded.
I also saw me clench my fist
And then hit out.
It was a kind of twist of wrist,
Unstrained, soft clout.
All of a sudden, from the dream
I would arouse,
But then my eyes would grow so dim,
And I would drowse.
I didnt walk, but dragged my feet
Along the paling.
I only tried to step on it
In fear and trembling.
I fawned like crazy on the strong,
Stooped to the wayward.
I knew that all I did was wrong
but wasnt wakened.
Its rubbish! Half asleep, I heard
My own murmurs,
And it was I, in fact, who had
That dream. Not others.
When I came round I discerned
My murmurs meaning.
I blinked my eyes, and though it hurt
It was relieving.
My vision hovering above
Crawled on the ceiling.
Prophetic dream? So here I have
The question sneering.
It gave me shivers for I had
To take decision:
What was a lie and what was right
About my vision.
For if a dream is just a dream
I should be joyous.
But what if its the vicious scheme
Of clairvoyance?
Are dreams what our days reflect?
Oh no, I doubt it!
But when I come to recollect
I get dumbfounded.
And when I hear: Burn! I seem
To have no spirit.
Ill be ashamed like in the dream
Where I was timid.
Or if they say: Sing on the beam.
Be energetic!...
And I will know that its a dream
Which is prophetic.
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1979 1980
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Im feeling shivery again. My heart
Is rumbling like a boulder in a barrel:
A vicious rogue is living in my blood,
With horny, hairy hands of a big scoundrel.
When, noticing my anguish, people say
Reproachfully: Hell take to drinking,
I cannot get along with him. No way.
He breathes, in my stead, while I am shrinking.
Hes not my double nor another me,
No use to give a stupid explanation.
He is my flesh and blood. How can it be?
It is beyond all imagination.
Hes waiting till I finish up my twine,
When he can use my hand to write the summery,
And I become a prudent, ruthless swine
Betraying everybody, all and sundry.
I do not want to look for an excuse,
My life may fade, go past, dissolve or harden;
But I will not excuse myself when, cutting loose,
He gets a hold on me, all of a sudden.
But I will summon all my power and strength,
This time he wont elude and dodge it:
Ill swallow poison, let him gorge it
And turn to dust, Ive cheated him at length!
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WHAT THE HELL, YOU VIPER...
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1961
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Tell me, why you, viper, have your eye-brows pencilled,
And what the hell youve put on your blue beret for.
You are going out for a dance, I sense it,
You have got two tickets to the club, I know.
You should have no doubt that I dote upon you,
I can do the stealing for you night and day,
But you are unfaithful, and I want to warn you,
I will put you down if you go astray.
I have no objections if its Nick or Slavka,
I dont mind you going out with my friends,
But if it is Victor from Pereyaslavka
I shall crush you, stinker, tear you to threads!
Listen to me, hussy, Ill be frank and solid:
You had better get that beret off your head;
If you dont, Ill have you buried in my soul, and
You will not be found, coated with cement.
When you come back, maybe, later in the summer,
Ill have found a woman, a real bit of jam,
Then youll burst with envy, like a dirty bummer,
Saying: Please forgive me, but I wont give a damn.
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I AM ON THE JOB
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1962
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I am on the job, Ive got a knife,
Dont hurt me, or youll lose your life.
And then I go to have a drink.
No matter what the rumors say,
What I have earned I drink away.
Ill always act that way, I think.
A man comes up to me and says:
Life isnt easy nowadays,
And men like you I want to kill.
But I have outdone the boy,
I do not talk, but I destroy,
I kill my foes and always will.
And if you care for a chat,
Lets have a drink, sit down, lad.
Well work it out anyway.
But if you are like that young ass,
There is one law for all of us,
And it will always be that way.
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THE SONG OF THE CRIMINAL CODE
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1964
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We dont need novels, stories and inventions.
We keep ourselves enlightened all the time.
The best of books to me is the collection
Of laws that deal with punishment and crime.
And if I cannot sleep, alarmed and saddened,
Or if, after a spree, I get a head,
I open Code of Laws at any page, at random,
And read it carefully, from A to Z.
I havent given tips to my companions,
Their cognizance of robbery is firm.
I have just read about it in the manual:
From three up to ten years of prison term.
Just think about these lines, they are quite simple
But more expressive than all novels of the world.
Behind them there are barracks, wretched people,
Cards, fights and scandals, cheating, and harsh word.
I wish I wouldnt read these lines of drear.
I see a persons life behind each phrase.
Its nice when articles are not severe :
Somebody may be lucky in that case.
My heart jumps moaning like a wounded pigeon
When I read articles concerning me.
Blood hammers in my temples, I envision:
Its cops who hammer at my door, I see.
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Y OWN ISLAND
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1970/71
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We are setting out for good
To warm lands.
Years on end well be en route
Off the strands.
You may put the wheels of fate
In the way,
But the storms we shall evade
Anyway.
Climb the mast and do it fast, my friend,
Land for us is now
vital:
Maybe, you will see a continent,
Or an island, for that
matter.
Someone wished so much to weigh
Pros and cons,
So he is now on his way
To repose.
All the others, stony broke,
Do their best,
They would rather go to work,
Than to rest.
You have turned, your fortune to a nun
Laugh at her, and be
silent,
Some have continents and some have none,
Some have their own
island.
They have boded me no good,
Cards at hand,
They foretold me that I would
Find my land.
But the sorcerer was wrong,
Cards tell lies,
I would like to search and long
For new isles.
Theres the shore in view in full extent
Take your time and look
round.
What is that? Is that the continent?
Or is it just my
Island?
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