Microphone
Ilya Shambat <[email protected]>
| Newsgroups | alt.angst |
|---|---|
| Message-ID | <[email protected]> |
I'm in the light, open to every eye - I do as I do often; like an icon I come up to a microphone; today It's more like I'm approaching a cannon. And I will not rub against the microphone Yes, my voice is loathsome to any Yes, I know, if a lie comes on It will augment it surely without pity. Rays beneath the lamp on ribs assail me Lamps shimmer into the face unkindly And from every side projectors beat And the heat! The heat! The heat! Today I rant again without control, But in the tone I don't risk making change - For if I make a turn inside the soul It will correct the curve with rage. It's thinner than a blade of knife, this beast, The flawless hearing, it hears lies till the iota - It does not care I don't fit in the beat But that I more completely sing the notes! Rays beneath the lamp on ribs assail me Lamps shimmer into the face unkindly And from every side projectors beat And the heat! The heat! The heat! Upon the supple neck this microphone Is rolling with its snake head; If I get silent - it will sting I have to sing - till stupor, till the end. Don't move, don't touch, don't dare! I saw the sting - you are a snake, I know! And I am like a charmer of a snake Not singing, putting spell upon a cobra! Rays beneath the lamp on ribs assail me Lamps shimmer into the face unkindly And from every side projectors beat And the heat! The heat! The heat! It wants to eat, and with a birdling's greed It takes the sounds out of the mouth, In forehead it will put nine grams of lead I won't raise the hands - the guitar binds them! Again it will not reach the end! What is this microphone - who will respond! Today it is like lamp against the face, But I'm not holy, and there's no light from the microphone. My melodies are simpler than the scales But barely beating from a sure tone - I am sickly beaten on the face By an immobile shade of microphone Rays beneath the lamp on ribs assail me Lamps shimmer into the face unkindly And from every side projectors beat And the heat! The heat! The heat! By Vladimir Vysotsky Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat https://sites.google.com/site/ibshambat