At Dusk Ordained/ 1

 One.
Once, my father called me close to explain politics.
He summoned time right in front of me and pleaded,
Give me a finger, won't you, to hold. When time offered a finger, father
cleverly grasped the whole hand instead. That day,
I saw time's natural shamelessness in its eyes.
Before I could tell whether it was right or wrong,
we noticed time wanted to brush its teeth with its tongue,
but the tongue was slippery! It didn't work. Filth stuck to the teeth.
Time stayed awake all night drinking until dawn, dancing.
Toward morning I saw tears streaming from its eyes.
I understood then that father himself didn't grasp politics, but he kept the desire to explain it.


Two.
Party members, officials, others of that class—
they all wore large caps on their heads.
Under those caps they all slept in perfect warmth and comfort.
There's no rule about removing the cap. It's even better if you wear it covering eyes and ears.
No one asks whether anyone likes wearing the cap or not.
If you want to stay there, you must wear it; why, no one can say anything.


For those caps they were paid in installments. There were bonuses, profit-sharing too, I heard.
Though all their suffering came from the caps,
those same caps kept them both loathsome and revered.
Their noses never got blocked anywhere, they could see far more than others.
Because of the caps they could grab anyone on the street and force them into confusion.
There was no way to hide their faces in shame, because
the caps had taught them to be blind and shameless.


They couldn't see, couldn't tell even when they suddenly lost their way.
A lost path can also be a path—this is what we learn from them.
Finally, to everyone's amazement, someone found conscience under the cap!
Later it turned out that conscience hadn't been renewed, so it had long been unfit for use.


Three.
Here, you can banish all your anxieties if you wish.
You can drink blood thinking it's red wine when thirsty, but don't strike anyone...
If someone gets hurt on their own, what can you do about it!
You'll get what you want, if you can walk with your conscience tucked in your pocket.
Strange tongue and bizarre talk—don't forget to keep these two with you,
train your eyes to scan, shake your head, accustom yourself to the smell of gunpowder with a very small-sized brain.


Go to such an island, stay there, where all your wishes will be fulfilled, but on one condition:
you must practice making promises that later
you will forget each and every one of.
You will swear oaths, your ghost will forget them. There's no harm in this.
If you know how to conspire, good; if not, learn to remain indifferent to human death.
Always remember, whatever happens, the guilty are those who aren't of your party.
Here no one will think of you, accepting this, you too won't think of anyone.


If someone behind your back calls you a bastard,
don't listen, and if you do, please use your other ear—to let it out.


Four.
The endless sequence of silence is gradually putting us under threat.


When—
let alone uproar, even speaking is forbidden,
religion's race gets stuck on the table's menu,
fun or jokes can only be made about love and sex,
everyone in and above the grave seeks psychiatrists,
even world powers cleverly support only the elite,
all satellite images are classified as needed in an instant,
grounded planes get permission to start journeys by land rules, not sky's,
orders come that there will be no memorial for the slain, just a board will suffice,
environmentalists demand you not light candles on the street,
meanwhile, over there, no one touches football fans' posters,
the state runs on the policy that you can listen to radio, sniff the press, but must stay content with just that,
forgetting everything becomes the bearer of security,
last year's relationship, next year's relationship, what's what—no one cares,
in time's demand the old prostitute suddenly enters brief bashful memory,
the luxurious future sleeps in the whirlpool of round tables,
then—
before citizens' eyes, untimeliness alone becomes fertile,
in its honor, with time as priest, the great ritual of killing all other embryos continues.


The endless sequence of silence has gradually put us under protection.