Lyrics taken from "Stylized donkey" by Sasha Chorny (A. Glickberg)
translated from Russian by Eugeniy Utkin
My head is a dark lantern with broken glass,
With four sides open to hostile winds.
At nights I hang around with dissolute drunken hussies,
In the mornings I go to the doctors.
I’m a blister on the seat of the great Russian literature,
Thunder, blow me to four hundred and eight pieces!
I’ll get naked and achieve scandalous-worldwide fame,
And sit down like a blind beggar at the crossroads of ways.
I love oranges and all the things that rhyme accidentally,
I have the temperament of a macaque and nerves made of steel.
Let any conservative be angry and sulky out of envy,
Let them yell: "Not poetry, just rubbish!"
You're lying! I’m a pimple on the eternal seat of poetry,
Glossy, red, songful and coral pimple.
Pimple with a head that is whiter than unspeakably burnt magnesia,
And coxcomb that is broken in most gallant, overfree, mannered ways.
Oh, philological, thin and resonant hocus-pocuses!
I’ll peck you, I’ll kick up, I’ll bite my own elbow.
Those who do not understand are just ignoramuses. Dash you! Go to hell!
I despise the mob. Will I write? Oh I will, yes, I will.
I will write with my stomach and nostril, with my feet and my heels,
I’ll impart crazy sweep to some two-cents-thoughts,
Rhyme all this stuff with crumpled eggs for style,
And walk the streets, walk on my shameless hands...
Are you awake?