Александр Цеханович – The Creator of Worlds / Создатель миров (английская версия) (страница 2)
the suffering of love.
Don’t try to dive into the bottle:
you simply won’t sink.
Whatever you do,
love will sting.
Calm your head. But please
give me a chance to see the hot coal
of your heart flaming again.
There aren’t many chances,
but let’s see.
«One should not think…»
One should not think
That they will accept me,
Or even more, that I could be
Understood.
I am for all of you,
Only another one.
Sir Christophe Rocancourt,
Covered by the mist
Of bravest curses.
I am an oath, fixed by blood, not ink
And firm handshakes,
I am standing here, a leprotic
Idiot, with my back to the audience.
I know an enigma of seven seals
And copper cups and tubes.
Every hour my face changes.
I was a happy child, now a crazy
Old man. My babe, my beauty,
I am your lover, your martinet.
I am a horny husband
Or somebody’s brother.
I am a lost soldier
Without a tomb.
I am Gwynplaine.
Let me explain.
I am a prisoner of my veins,
Who loves morphine.
I am Huckleberry Finn.
I am a guy from lifelong sentences,
From a prison called
“Black dolphin”.
I am a peacock without a voice,
A raging pavian.
A citizen of deserts and
Hot savannah.
I am Mister Tic-Tac-Toe.
Exchanging admiration, lust
And disgust,
without a point of return.
I am a city with fires of sunsets,
And doors of hell and heaven
Are opened in front of me.
Every day dying
And resurrecting,
Like a grain in the millstones
of mundane life,
And the firmament becomes dust.
Death follows me
On its white horse,
Bringing more problems, besides health —
Then a rider on the red horse,
who mutilated me.
And the rider on the black horse
Killed my last hopes. 
