"То, что хотел бы я высказать..." 1993
Translated by Ekaterina Chapiro © 2013

"That which I would try to express..."

That which I would try to express, is an impossible expression to claim,
As this thing I want to express cannot be pinned down and easily said,
Because, while I attempt to master the words, it just runs away,
And when I all but give up, I can't make it leave my head.
Some may claim that outlines contours of its kind of perfection.

I, on the other hand, see ominous visions: the emperor's new clothes;
The remnants of a stupefied monster: its teeth, fins and tail;
Gloomy chords outside the octave, viscous "re-mi-fa-so";
A tortured artist's student putting back together his shattered vial...
Some may attempt, without rhyme or reason, to name this "temptation".

Hitting myself on the hands, I repeat: "just leave it, brother, stay sane;
You, without finding your way around your own native speech, probably
Being just a redundant suffix to the label "Henri", or any other good name,
Catch in a simple word that which cannot exist in the language's key..."
Some can try, for what reason - God knows, turn to Latin to solve this.

Nomen? Sermo? Aestus? Aevum? Aurum? Oriens?
Malum? Scelus? Luctum? Luctus? Maeror? Odium?..

Seemingly I was not right, in saying the weathers will change.
Seemingly, they are already the right ones, one hundred strong,
In ours — not somebody else's — era, not somebody else's rage...
Stop! This has already been written... meaning it's wrong, it's wrong...
To some this may seem something awfully useless, career-wise.

To me, though — I almost could taste it now! — See it, it's found, it grows,
Sober discoveries of some kind of signifier, mignonette, mistral...
Although in a second it's covered in a growing scab and away it blows,
Drawing across the air a supra-velocity horizontal...
Some take pleasure in altogether staying away from the subject.

Carmen. Meturs. Merum. Mustum. Reditus. Requies.
Lumen. Flamen. Caelum. Deus. Venia. Otiu...

Throw off the petrification, count letters, repeat "it's wrong",
Get up, stomp around a little, and back to the toxic mists...
There are, after all, better experts, I don't belong...
The sphere slows down movement... dust evaporates in a hiss...
Some don't at all see the need to provide this with meaning.