Friday, December 25, 2015

Aleksey Mozgovoy's Poem No. 37

This poem completes the trinity of the poems, which he posted on the same day, June 3, 2013. The first poem in this trinity corresponds to Dante's Inferno, the second to Paradiso, and the third presents Purgatorio, which renders the road and pilgrimage as a journey of struggle and striving.

Moreover, it is this third poem, which is a defining statement of his faith, defiance, insurrection as well as resurrection. It is a manifesto of his creed and religion of a true Russian patriot and soldier. A manifesto of a true, miraculous epiphany of the Russian spirit rising against and above the anti-culture of the soulless and anti-soul merchants with souls, bodies, and the country and the people.

An Unbeliever (Or a Believer in the Creed Forgotten and Abandoned by All)

No, I don’t believe in God with feudal titles
Or in his Devil kept for tortures below.
Yet I do know that the road of life is deadly.
I’ve swapped the cross for my bag and road.

My legs are shacked, but still as well as in spite
I keep going and I blaze forward my path
Free of your Lord and free of your Devil
Through the alley of spittle and swines.

Let my rusty chains rattle and rave,
Spoiling the peace behind the grave!
Not in twilight but in-between the dark
Forward only I tread—onward I march!

Forward and on my defiance leads,
And puffs of air don’t make me crawl
As I pass ships hallowed of truly false worth
Where they stack humans of sheep and people of goats.

Let them tear and blot my clothes
With their musty clauses and claws.
Let their Santas beckon and wink
With their blinds, beacons and beams.

I will not swerve. Don’t wait for me!
I am deaf to your whining and screams.
My eyes won’t open and empty into your lies.
I’ll hold on the mind which means to be mine.

Let my self be unwashed, beaten and drab,
Clear of the stretch that flashes your smiley fakes.
My road of a pilgrim leads me to the forgotten,
The home of the abandoned—the Russian old cabin!


Я не верую в Господа Бога,
Да и в Чёрта я веры нейму!
Знаю, гибельна эта дорога,
Но меняю я крест на суму!

По разбитой, истоптанной зверем,
В проповедных, гниющих плевках.
И не в Бога, не в Чёрта не веря,
По дороге пойду в кандалах!

Пусть гремят мои ржавые цепи!
Нарушая загробный покой.
В полумраке а не в полусвете,
По дороге, и только прямой!

Не сгибаясь под ветром, упрямо.
Шаг за шагом и только вперёд!
Мимо истинно лживого храма,
Там где в стадо сгоняют народ!

Пусть одежды мои обрывают,
Лапы чёрных, умерших ветвей.
Пусть святоши к себе зазывают,
Маяками слепых фонарей.

Не сверну я, не ждите, не стоит!
Не услышу я ваше нытьё.
Мне глаза, ваша ложь не откроет,
У меня теперь вера в своё!

Пусть не мытое, рваное, битое!
Без улыбки растянутых губ.
Приведёт меня, всеми забытое,
В старый, русский, покинутый сруб!

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