Перевод на англ. стихотворения А. М. Кабанова

«Тридцать лет и три года…»

Yuri dud’ interviewed christ for thirty and a further three years;
wise men wondered - drought, rain - what message this bears,
it turned out the message was war, slaughter, destruction.
Far from the crucifix, closer to an echo, then to nails;
it turned out christ spoke excellent russian.

So he carried on and on as a freaking dude,
impossible to be banned, or to be stopped by dud’,
looking full of pride more than a genious, let alone creator.
Climbed the top of the hill, wiping slime from his feet and wrists,
surrounded by ukrainian refugees,
listening to the son of the god in the tongue of the invader.

And christ spoke on: time is up and salvation ain’t
gonna come; he’s the only godfather, the son and the spirit saint,
there’s no faith in light, no compassion from now,
and omega and alpha have changed to vi and to zet
on the back on his chiton, as scarlet as snow.

Dread and horror then gushed through the cracks in the sky,
looking for those who were unable to hide.
Time was up, no more hate or sensation to trick us.
I was watching dud’ pray and cry nearby,
surrounded by crowds of russian asylum seekers.

Then all questions turned into one - uncategorized.
They embraced each other - the dud’ and just a christ,
all were killed, resurrected and healed with a bandage.
Refugees fraternized - ugly toad and poor grass-snake,
there was land in europe for all, and the court in hague
switched to surzhik as its official language.