I hate you, rubber souls, you seem
to stretch to fit any regime.
They’ll give a yawning smile, stretched wide,
and, like an octopus, they’ll draw you tight.
A rubber man is an elusive rogue:
a fist gets sucked into the bog.
The rubber editor is scared of ,
the author is bogged down in it.
A rubber office I used to know
where “yes” was stretched to courteous “no”.
I pity you, elastic crank,
as if erased, your past is blank.
You have erased many a passion, many a thought,
but you were happy and excited, were you not?…
Above the waist you are a cowardly man,
an ace of spade, and an unlucky one…
© Copyright Alec Vagapov’s translation
***
Andrei Voznesensky (Voznesenski, Voznesenskii, Voznesenskï, Wosnesenski, Woznesenski)
Andrei Voznesensky, Voznesenskii (1933-2010) was a Soviet and Russian poet, writer, playwright and songwriter. Voznesensky is known for his experimental forms and language, and his works often touch on philosophical and social themes. He also wrote songs for musicians and performed them himself. He was a laureate of the USSR State Prize (1978).