×àðëüç Áóêîâñêè
ñëîìëåííûé
íèêàêîãî îïðàâäàíèÿ
íåò
íåò íèêàêîé ëæè
íèêàêîé ïðàâäû
íèêàêîé ëþáâè... íåò íèêàêèõ
áóêñèðîâ, êîøåê, ñîáàê,
ðûá,
íåáåñ.
äàæå âàøè ñòðàäàíèÿ ýòî
ìèðàæ.
íåò íèêàêèõ êîíòðàêòîâ
íåò íèêàêîé ÷åñòè
íèêàêèõ ïðèíöèïîâ,
à ðàçóì óø¸ë
ðûáà÷èòü â
ïóñòûíþ.
íåò íèêàêîé ðàöèîíàëüíîé îñíîâû
íåò íèêàêîãî áëàãîðîäñòâà.
ïîðâàííûé øíóðîê
ýòî òðàãåäèÿ:
íå ìîè ðóêè äóøàùèå òî ìàëîå ìåñòî
êîòîðîå òû íàçûâàåøü ëþáîâüþ.
from "Open All Night": new poems
20.06.19
broken
there isn’t any
justification
there isn’t any
lie
any truth
any love…there aren’t any
tugboats, cats, dogs,
fish,
skies.
even your suffering is
a mirage.
there aren’t any contracts
there isn’t any honor
any principal,
and reason has gone
fishing in the
desert.
there isn’t any rational basis
there isn’t any nobility.
a broken shoelace
is the tragedy:
not the hands of me
strangling that
tiny place
you call
love.