Hey, Gumiljov is dead, and Mandelshtamm is dead.
Pushkin was shot, Melville died in a poverty,
How can I drink my wine, my coffee, eat my bread,
Tell me, oh God, your highness, and your majesty?!
Vincent Van Gough had cut his ear off,
Lunar Sonata is written by Beethoven,
I am confused, exhausted, tired of
Perplexity into complexity woven.
I wish to ride with Chan Batu
To Russia’s storm Onion Dome churches,
But history is a one-way taboo,
And we don’t light our forefather’s torchers.
Cavalry races through the Rubicon,
And Trojan horse is dragged through city gates,
Shakespeare is dead, and Edgar Alan Po,
I had some whisky, read Apollinaire,
Hoofs sound like a drum, uplifting grass and soil,
I poured more whiskey, turned another page,
Salute for yesterday, today and for tomorrow,
In any circumstances, we all will meet in hell.