Электрический Пёс [Elektricheskiy Pes] [English translation]

Endurance of thought compares to syphilis,

And worst, when relations are close.

Such a Bacchanalia of reminiscence

You couldn’t wish even to foes.

Youngster, slowly aging, in search of perfection

His perennial question entrusted to fog,

He showers in wine, and from other direction

With unblinking attention, he is watched by electrical dog.

We are guarding the kitchen with air pollution,

We are wearing feathers and boxers of lead,

And should you expire from electrocution

The remainder of troops will not notice the dead.

And coherence of ranks is equated to kinship

Or perhaps it’s the fear of taking a hold.

Elevated above the castle of kitchen

Flies a banner of swim trunks with prominent odor of mold.

And we all have acquired our favorite methods

For induction of movement in shimmering dust.

As guitarists are cherishing faces in portraits

Poets get their high from second-hand lust.

For the longest of time only calling each other,

To discuss the aesthetics in the circle of friends.

But this dog is ripping the barriers

In perpetual search of gentle and caring hands.

And the very same women, which could have been sisters

Paint with poison employable surface of nails,

And in everything moving they see competition,

But insist that see whores, when comparison fails.

And this manifestation of love to thy neighbor

Makes me fear for reason and for social plight.

But electrical dog prefers innuendo:

He’s in love with these women,

And from his perspective, he’s right.

Cause the others in here just couldn’t inspire

Neither death, neither life, not a couple of lines;

And while some are amused with the Eastern Empire,

Others study the West and admire its’ signs.

And they study the roles for over a decade,

Which they should have forgotten a decade ago.

Electrical dog is constantly laughing:

He is not even bothered by how and why he should go.

This song has gotten no start or conclusion,

Just an epigraph – a sentence or three:

We have been raised in a field of confusion,

Where any device blows-up or it’s free.

And by logical thought this canine isn’t needed –

But he’s much more alive, than we’ll ever be.

And should you enquire: “Of whom is this written?”

My reply would be vague: “I wish it was known to me…”