POEMS BY TIMUR KIBIROV

At midnight hour,
by his monitor,
there sits a manly youth.
With mind bewildered, heart in sorrow,
he gloomily beseeches Yahoo
and other searching engines:

“O tell me of the meaning of existence—
Relentless ancient mystery of being!!”

And Google answers,
Google knows all answers!

Easy as pie!
Click and arrive:

Item searched: The Meaning of Existence
websites found: 111444
documents: 2724010
new: 3915

A HEART-TO-HEART

I uttered to my object of desire,
“Now, listen, mon objet!
Was it not you I had admired
Forever and a day?

I gave it all—my heart and soul—
To you, oh heartless thing!
And now what? I weep and squall,
Disheartened, lampless jinn!”

As rational as one can be,
The object so replied,
“Whyever, subject, would I need
Your soul to be alive?

Without you, dolt, I was bestowed
Immortal living soul
By my Creator long ago.
Quit hovering o’er my soul!”

THEODICY

Ivan Karamazov, his ticket returned,
In due time passed on to the otherworld.

He descends into Hades—his chosen lot—
Yet his good old bud is all but glad.

To Ivan Karamazov old Mephisto says,
“Woe is me! This is not your place.

I’d teach you good manners, you hellion!
But you aren’t permitted in our dominion.

Quel scandale, Ivan Fyodorych, quelle surprise!—
An atheist in Paradise!”

And he’s carried by angels to the heaven’s door,
Where Peter says, “Get inside, you boor!”

With a righteous glow in his pince-nez,
Vanya firmly replies, “S’il vous plait!

I’ll decide on my own where to go!
What? For me to enter this blissful abode

When down there, in that earthly pit,
They’re dying in fear, in fire, in shit—

Had it only been grown-ups—but sinless babes?!
How can You allow such disgrace?

How dare You look in our eyes, Jesus Christ?!”
At the end of her rope, Mary Magdalene roared,

“Have you lost your feeble mind?!
How dare you! Are you blind?!

What a brat! Do you not understand?!
Look at Him, at His feet, at His hands!”

And for long He who died for Ivan
Couldn’t hush Mary Magdalene down.

У монитора
в час полнощный
муж-юноша сидит.
В душе тоска, в уме сомненья,
и, сумрачный, он вопрошает Яndex
и другие поисковые системы —

“О, разрешите мне загадку жизни,
Мучительно старинную загадку!!”

И Rambler отвечает,
на все вопросы отвечает Rambler!

Проще простого
Click — и готово:

Вы искали: Смысл жизни
найдено сайтов: 111444
документов: 2724010
новых: 3915

ЗАДУШЕВНАЯ БЕСЕДА

Предмету страсти я сказал:
“Послушай-ка, предмет!
Не я ль тебя одушевлял
В теченье стольких лет?

Я душу вкладывал свою
В бездушную тебя!
И что ж? Теперь я слезы лью,
Всю душу погубя!”

Но вожделения объект
Резонно отвечал:
“А кто просил, чтоб ты, субъект,
Меня одушевлял?

Давно и без тебя, глупец,
Бессмертной и живой
Душой снабдил меня Творец.
Не стой же над душой!”

ТЕОДИЦЕЯ

Иван Карамазов, вернувши билет,
В свой час отправился на тот свет.

Прямиком направляется Ваня в ад,
Но старый знакомец ему не рад.

Говорит Карамазову старый бес:
“К сожалению, место твоё не здесь.

Я б тебе показал, как нос задирать,
Но тебя не велено к нам пускать.

Quel scandale, Иван Федорыч, quelle surprise!
Атеист отправляется в Парадиз!”

И несут его ангелы к Богу в рай,
И Пётр говорит: “Ну, входи, давай!”,

Но, блеснувши стёклышками пенсне,
Говорит Карамазов: “Позвольте мне

Самому решать, куда мне идти!
Мне противно в обитель блаженства войти,

Когда там, на земле, мученья одне,
Когда гибнут во страхе, в огне, в говне

Ладно б взрослые! — Дети! Они-то за что?!
Как Ты смотришь на это, Иисус Христос?

Как Ты нам в глаза-то смеешь смотреть?!”
И тогда Магдалина, не в силах терпеть,

Заорала: “Ты что, совсем очумел?!
Ты с кем говоришь-то?! Да как ты смел?!

Как же можно так не понять ничего?!
Да взгляни, белоручка, на руки Его!”

И долго её усмирить не мог
Распятый за Ваню Бог.

Timur Kibirov is a poet. He was born in 1955. He graduated from the Philology and History department of the Moscow Regional Pedagogical Institute. He began to gain acclaim as an underground poet in late 1980s, although his work—with its frequently ironic portrayals of the absurdities of Soviet life, its nastiness and comedy, its tender and unbearable routines—could not be published during Soviet times. Since the early 1990s however he has published and read widely, becoming one of contemporary Russia's most recognized poets. Kibirov is the author of thirteen poetry collections, including When Lenin Was Young (1995), Amour, exil (2000), and In the Margins of “A Shropshire Lad” (2007), his remarkably free translation of A. E. Housman’s classic work. Kibirov has won many honors, including the “Anti-Booker” award (1997) and Russia’s prestigious “Poet” prize (2008) and Znamya magazine award (2010). English translations of his poems have appeared in The Poetry of Perestroika (Mortimer & Litherland, 1991), Third Wave: The New Russian Poetry (Johnson & Ashby, 1992) and Contemporary Russian Poetry: An Anthology (Kates & Bunimovich, 2008). He lives and works in Moscow.

Victoria Chernyak is a healthcare modeling analyst, theatre dramaturg and literary translator. She has translated and adapted plays by Alexander Pushkin, Evgeny Schwartz and Daniil Kharms. Her work appeared in On the Seawall and has been performed at poetry readings, Valdez Theatre Conference and theatre workshops. A new anthology, Conversation Piece, of selected Russian poetry in translation that spans from the early 1800s to late 1900s, has been accepted for publication in Somerville, Mass.