I am deafened by clapping and cheers, I am blinded by singersí wide grins, I have suffered for so many years, From the high Cís and pop idolsí din. Sounds were sifted through me, and went flying Off the stage, through the air, to your soul. Thereís the man on whom all hope Iím laying - Itís for him that Iíve suffered it all. I heard sighs enough about the silver moon, Beaming stars of blissful nights would bawl or croon, There was one played on a saw - I nearly died, But I magnified, and magnified, and magnified... His voice booms in the lower keys, In the upper, itís sharp as a blade. He will show what a great star he is. In my way, though, I may be as great! He is breathing so hard, he is straining Every sinew - I fear heíll drop dead. My long, flexible neck Iím craning Towards his face that seems golden with sweat. I heard sighs enough about the silver moon, Beaming stars of blissful nights would bawl or croon, There was one played on a saw - I nearly died. But I magnified, and magnified, and magnified... Suddenly I blow up: "Canít you hear it - This is bilge, what you sing, cut the crap! Itís like treacle, itís saccharine syrup. People, tell him that he should shut up!" Voice in wilderness! In vain, my call, I am wobbling, all things seem afloat. He is pouring, like balm, bitter gall In my long and long-suffering throat. I heard sighs enough about the silver moon, Beaming stars of blissful nights would bawl or croon, There was one played on a saw - I nearly died. But I magnified, and magnified, and magnified... I have always disliked lies and liars. What of that? I had really no choice. Itís my job, I am an amplifier, So I suffered, yet amplified lies. Then I groaned, and the loudspeakers hollered, But he twisted my neck, and I quaked. They unscrewed me - I was deftly murdered And replaced by some lousy old fake. I heard sighs enough about the silver moon, Beaming stars of blissful nights would bawl or croon, There was one played on a saw - I nearly died. But I magnified, and magnified, and magnified... It will meekly accept all they say - That is why on my neck itís now screwed: We are often replaced - that they may Go on mouthing their lies undeterred. ...We were lying, a few hours after, Tightly packed in a noir, dusty case, And the other mike told me, with laughter, "He was so glad that youíd been replaced."
© Sergei Roy. Translation, 1990