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Miscellaneous Poetry, poems and verses by Fledermaus translations

I have outlived my own desires

 

I have outlived my own desires

I have outlived my own desires
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In English, translated by Fledermaus, Евгений Сухарников, © 2021

I have outlived my own desires
I now detest my own dreams
My suffering never expires
And is no longer what it seems

Under the storm of the cruelest fate
My flowering wreath wilted away
I languish in a disheartened state
And only for the end, I pray

So is benumbed with tardy cold
As wintry blizzard howls in grief
Stuck on a twig, naked and old
Is shaking last remaining leaf


Я пережил свои желанья,
Я разлюбил свои мечты;
Остались мне одни страданья,
Плоды сердечной пустоты.

Под бурями судьбы жестокой
Увял цветущий мой венец —
Живу печальный, одинокой,
И жду: придет ли мой конец?

Так, поздним хладом пораженный,
Как бури слышен зимний свист,
Один — на ветке обнаженной
Трепещет запоздалый лист!..

1821

 

Fluff:

 

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  1. Slavers throwing overboard the dead and dying by Joseph Mallord William Turner ( 1775 – 1851) []
Categories
Miscellaneous Poetry, poems and verses by Fledermaus translations

You must once

You must once.

You must

You must once

(edited/translated by Fledermaus, © 2021, original)

And you must once, at least once as you’ve reached the top,

as you’ve caught up with the horizon,

to stumble and fall to feel the fatal call of the abyss below with each pulsating cell.

And, as you lose your strength — to break down in the gorge

To crumble stones with your bloody fingers…

And, suddenly, as you are about to die, to stay alive… … at the very edge of the death!…

Sit down… Be silent… Draw a smoke… Laugh quietly… and think: —

How  great it is to be alive.

А всё-таки надо… пусть даже однажды… достигнув вершины, догнав горизонт, споткнуться… и падая… клеточкой каждой почувствовать пропасти гибельный зов. И, силы теряя — в ущелье срываться, кровавыми пальцами камни крошить… И, вдруг, умирая… в живых оставаться… … у самого края — в живых оставаться!… Присесть… Помолчать… Закурить… Рассмеяться… и думать: — Как всё-таки здорово жить!!!

The end

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Poems by miscellaneous Russophone authors in Russian

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Categories
Poetry, poems and verses by Fledermaus

An Ode to the Democratic Rat. June

An Ode to the Democratic Rat. A Sonnet

An Ode to the Democratic Rat
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My democratic Rat, you inspire me to write.
As I observe the way your sick follies expand
Infesting minds through the day and by the night,
Always dreaming about the bright inland.

Let me compare you to a static moon?
You are a bit more bitchy and way much more progressive.
The broad sun heats the chichi peaches of June,
And summertime will make the Rat obsessive.

How do we hate you? Let me count the ways.
We hate your tales, your tail, and your pretentious smile.
Your sight fills us with repulsion for many days.
But vermin loves you since your ilk is vile.

Now I must away with a screechy heart,
Remember my great words whilst we’re apart.

 

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  1. illustration by Fledermaus[]
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Miscellaneous Poetry, poems and verses by Fledermaus tanka танка

To the Rat’s Pencil

Oh the rat’s pencil
Your valor was so steadfast
Till the sharp teeth sank
Into your once creative flesh
To sharpen it. Draw, you wretch!

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Categories
Miscellaneous Poetry, poems and verses by Fledermaus

Toward Salvation

 

Imported master
Treasonous and traitorous.
On a dim-lit path
Leads his brainless followers
Toward salvation. Let’s laugh.

 

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Miscellaneous Poetry, poems and verses by Fledermaus

I am surrounded

I am surrounded by darkness 

It is not the dark matter sort of total darkness  

This darkness is thick 

Oppressive 

Gluey  

Permeating  

Diffusing through substance  

Unavoidable  

Monotonous  

Inescapable 

It’s my own self 

I am surrounded by darkness, I am surrounded by myself, an illustration

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  1. Gustave Doré[]
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Miscellaneous Poetry, poems and verses by Fledermaus

White April

April is approaching but it's cold and winter is still around,  painting by Hendrick Avercamp as an illustration
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April is approaching.

Snow is still around.

The old man winter raped the baby month of March

And slept with her tiny corpse in his deep-frozen hole

He must have thought that sleeping with the spring’s unborn firstborn

Will extend his own life by a matter of a few weeks, at least

If that was the winter’s goal, the old and cunning beast

Had won big time.

To say the least. Because the winter’s still with us

Oblivious to the calendar and our expectations

His snow is all around

So fresh and white, and pure as if it were without reproach

As if it were oblivious to April’s much overdue approach

Please, April, come and purge this place of snow.

Please melt the snow. And let’s move on.

I feel so tired of this winter.

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White april is White april though it’s still late march. That’s it. White April. So unbelievable. So much snow around.

  1. Hendrick Avercamp, 1585-1634[]
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Miscellaneous Poetry, poems and verses by Fledermaus

After a long pause

After a long pause, I came back to scanning old thoughts 

Long abandoned like my own soul at the end of a track  

Of rusty rails punctuated by pauses of cracked ties  

Where I lurk in the fog of horrible do-it-yourself lies  

Unwittingly concealing truths so unimaginably black  

Horrid things tied up in un-untieable knots 

Of numb memories causing pain so unbearably severe 

Inflamed visions of old train tracks running up to the horizon  

Which isn’t just there, it’s an optical illusion or worse

And around are the monsters of one who knows well he is sick  

Hopeless, tired, but you had enough time to get wiser  

Though you didn’t.

Don’t fear, the end must be near. For everyone.

after a long pause abandoned track, an illustration of the road to nowhere

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After a long pause. Oh, not really. After a long pause. Inflamed visions. Long abandoned. After a long pause. The time moves on. Mercilessly. Inevitably. Toward the same end. Oh, not really. After a long pause. Inflamed visions. Long abandoned. The time moves on. Mercilessly. Inevitably. Toward the same end. Long abandoned inflamed visions of hell if hell exists.

Categories
Miscellaneous Poetry, poems and verses by Fledermaus

The Impostor’s Coronation

The Impostor’s Coronation

Twenty thousand-plus armed troops
Countless plainclothes thugs
And uniformed lowlives in groups
While agents lurked around as if they were selling drugs
Stonefaced, shamed-faced and shameless
Creatures in disguise stood guard around the site
Of a circus-like arena, the show on it as heinous
And just as sad as the defrauded nation’s plight
Hyenas howled: the freakish mummy puppet will be crowned
No matter what at the hijacked state’s most pompous ceremony
And courtiers pretend that it’s legit, and no one makes a sound
While the observers laugh at a scene so spurious and phony
Then, tje brainless mummy of a puppet is brought upon the stage
And regiments of troops protect it from its voters
(Some of them are zombies, others are just dead)
The usurper’s mummy is then propped up by its promoters
And dragged upon the podium, its visage filled with insolence and dread
And then they pull the strings, and the monstrosity begins to speak
While zombies on the flatscreens cheer, jeer, undazzled, unperturbed
The freakish mummy puppet’s head jerks and then with a sudden squeak
It utters hollowly – “Obey me. I am now the leader of the free world.”

impostor election, illustration to the poem of the Imposter's Coronation, impostor election, and impostor's coronation, the stolen elections and the usurper's inaguration ceremony, and what an absurd spectacle it really was.
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Whether spelled imposter or impostor, the impostor election was no cause for celebration and the freakish mummy’s inaguration was a sham as we all know.

  1. Gustave Doré, Conseil tenu par les rats, 1867[]
Categories
Miscellaneous Poetry, poems and verses by Fledermaus

You find…

You find my prose so unrefined
So is my verse, no matter how defined
But here’s the evil of a far graver kind
The censorship, with it we’re in a bind
Censorship is the state when creatures
Who run your life’s most elemental features
Who ruin lives when they become displeased
As if our duty was to keep the nasties pleased
Decide what you can or cannot see
Or read, or write, or how you take a pee
The arbiters of who’s wrong or who is right
Some in plain sight, and others out of sight
Who censor what they deem may offend others
Though really, truth is what so much bothers
Them and their masters, evil puppeteers
The marketeers, the profiteers, the rackeeters
The peddlers of assorted fears, of scares old and new
You know them all, or how I wish you knew
The scum of the earth that slanders nations
The scum that infests offices and obscure foundations
Who pull the plug on you because you don’t comply
With norms of a fictional community, they lie
About everything — they’re afraid of the word
So let’s cast evil creatures overboard
Or, since we can’t for now, you see
Let’s keep pretending that we’re really free

illustration to the poem about evil of hidden censorship or just a picture by Jean-Edouard Dargent
((Jean-Edouard Dargent, an illustration to Dante’s Divine Comedy)

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