Andrei Voznesensky 1933-2010

Wednesday

Jun022010

Fate is above me. Why should I browse?

Sleeping in dosses, an outcast, I rove.

Grief is a cellar,

that opens in every old house.

A ditch is below me and fate is above.

What did I want? Well, a life of contentment.

What did I get? Just a coffin and wreath...

Under the cradle a grave has been latent.

Fate is above me, a ditch is beneath.

Up in the sky my soul, like a hound,

howls, despaired,

the trigger to pull it was keen.

Fate has come over my family background,

and on the earth where fate is my kin.

What have I done, apart from the simple

poems I've written in passing to date?

I've been a lightening conductor for people.

Now I have broken my back. Such is fate.

Dear colleagues, I'm so happy:

nowadays when all is well

I’m the only one who happens

to be criticized like hell.

I’m a black sheep. No objection,

for my living does make sense

‘cause I set off the perfection

of my flawless author friends.

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