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All, so spontaneously!… No, I wasn’t feared

Neither I was satisfied; timelessly,

Seem, a last question of the Theme we’ve tried,

Was keeping alchemize my loaded mind,

And the effect was felt like limbo thought

Grotesquely-dissolved in mount of sights

Of all subsequently awaken fancies.

It was all coming up from stranger words

Made wilder dancing of the scene-to-world.

The Provocation how fast was rising

From the back-imagined talk. …That “’bout tomb»,

That “’bout dead», that “’bout doom and light»; —

As if these Two, sane-eyed, sat there, side to side,

At their philosophic table of the Time,

Whilst all around, full of common cries

From yet tonight, the witnesses of our insight,

Beings too-voluntarous, rose to unite

And all got closer, and acted there blind,

And some were just to fight then.

All characters to find… Dude Fonomore,

With others, fans of End, Satirehood, and…

Madder-looking creature broke the hand, then,

Of the Dead Wall’s Clock, and picture changed all.

And all, so suddenly, went to behold:

Oh, that was news unique! that opened wide,

That newly-viewed field there was; – that hugely…

Laid all o’er there… corpse. Bigger than house.

Much bigger than the airplane or gardens

Some, – the Corpse of War, dread on the sun.

And ’twas all full of moving…! life, not life, —

What could I call it like? The crawls, all sounds,

Those all expressions, parasitic mess,

All from inside came out; – ants not ants,

Not so the worms, but looked like flags and guns,

In tones and tints, materialized moods

Of things in shape, in shade, dead sentiments.

…The threats of vision stopped, view lost its ends

Dissolved in shouts for the needed Grave

That time, when my stressed psyche invoked again

Back to my consciousness, that for me then

To be a here-man. And here I am. – Think,

Else, what I can say is that, when my old mind,

Impressed a lot, went wondering alone

Of that if ever could be right to grow

Our seductive «Carny’s theme» at all, —

If e’er we’d find a way to bury doubts

(Oh, what a wisest thought!) «bout Death of War,

So it can’t rise again, per rotten chance; —

To this, I felt, however, but a nerve

Of Human inspiration, – dreaming then

Of sage and dispute to be back again.

    (08.05.2014, Moscow —

    01.08.2014, dacha

    by S.