Iím in the light, open to every eye - I do as I do often; like an icon I come up to a microphone; today Itís more like Iím 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 do beat me Lamps shimmer into the face unkindly And projectors blind from every side And the heat! The heat! Is blind! Today I rant again without control, But in the tone I donít risk making change - For if I make a turn inside the soul It will correct the curve with rage. The beast, than a blade it is more thin - The flawless hearing, it hears lies till the iota - It does not care that in beat I donít fit in But that I more completely sing the notes! Rays beneath the lamp on ribs do beat me Lamps shimmer into the face unkindly And projectors blind from every side And the heat! The heat! Is blind! 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. Donít move, donít touch, donít dare! I saw the sting - you are a snake, I know! And I am like a charmer of a snake I do not sing, Iím putting spell upon a cobra! Rays beneath the lamp on ribs do beat me Lamps shimmer into the face unkindly And projectors blind from every side And the heat! The heat! Is blind! It wants to eat, and with a birdlingís greed It takes the sounds out of the mouth, In forehead it will put nine grams of lead I wonít 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 Iím not holy, and thereís no light from the microphone. Rays beneath the lamp on ribs do beat me Lamps shimmer into the face unkindly And projectors blind from every side And the heat! The heat! Is blind! 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 Iím in the light, open to every eye - I do as I do often; like an icon I come up to a microphone; today Itís more like Iím approaching a cannon. Rays beneath the lamp on ribs do beat me Lamps shimmer into the face unkindly And projectors blind from every side And the heat! The heat! Is blind!
© Ilya Shambat. Translation, ?