воскресенье, 28 октября 2012 г.

I am . . .


I am Steelman, the king of Suffia, the brave are frightened
of my name. They don't fear a cruel death but know well
they are accused of killing men I organized.
I am Steelman the king of Suffia, even the streets are pale
At the sight of my face.
I have countless and strong soldiers, numerous butchers and assassins.
I am Sir Uncle the king of Sufffia, I love girls like narcotics
when they tremble on my throne bathed in bright, goat's milk.
I am Sir Uncle, the king of Suffia.
the walls are joyous at my feasts.
There are many meals on the table but only vodka attracts me.
After the feasts I sit alone and drink my vodka, drink and drink.
I am Steelman, the king of Suffia the steppes are blooming
in tears and bloodlakes.
I have conquered half of the globe but I yearn for new states
because I detest all living souls and life too on this planet.
I am Iron, the king of Suffia, the streets are full of my idols.
The nations are turned into one crowd. I've written the prayers of night.
A flock of people worship my psalms The stubborn are killed by a cane.
I'm Vladimir the king of Suffia, I warn you God is a wrong being.
Naive earthlings are mistaken but I'm perfect and unerring.
You have no need to believe in the Lord, believe me, my friends.
mow the winds.
If you resist my orders your heads will be cut by my will.
I'm Vladimir, the king of Suffia How dare winds blow easily
How dare stars twinkle in the heaven these questions drill and torture my brain.
I can't count How many masks I have,
How many doubles, How many names.
I'm called Great at dawn and Great leader – in the daytime.
Don't be surprised my dears, if I become the Sun one day . . .
Last night the moon laid bare my town.
Again sadness called on me.
A voice said: The globe where you live on is only a tiny grain.
Your life is one second not a second in the cosmic time.
You can't cross the confined borders, at a certain age you will die.
The comet has flown through my mind burning somewhere on the isle.
I don't know what I've suffered for?
What aim have I attained?
Only blood, tears of children and ruins I've remained . . .
I have lived like a camel and foolish mule, a hound and pig.
My past life resembles cacti planted in the desert in a line.
I don't know who I am.
what is happening to my mind?
So many names I have that I can't remember my own name . . .
I've sneaked out of my house left my throne and rare things.

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