Everything's sliding apart.Yet, "Long live everything!"For the art of creationIs older than the art of killing.
"Lines to Robert Lowell"; translation by Louis Simpson and Vera Dunham, from Vera Dunham and Max Hayward (eds.) Nostalgia for the Present (New York: Doubleday, 1978) p. 111.
It's shameful to spot a lie and not to name it,shameful to name it and then to shut your eyes,shameful to call a funeral a weddingand play the fool at funerals besides.Andrey Voznesensky
I am Goyaof the bare field, by the enemy's beak gougedtill the craters of my eyes gapeI am griefI am the tongueof war, the embers of citieson the snows of the year 1941I am hunger.Andrey Voznesensky
I have hurled westward the ashes of the uninvited guest!and hammered stars into the unforgetting sky – like nailsI am Goya.Andrey Voznesensky
Along a parabola life like a rocket flies,Mainly in darkness, now and then on a rainbow.Andrey Voznesensky
The urge to kill, like the urge to beget,Is blind and sinister. Its craving is setToday on the flesh of a hare: tomorrow it canHowl the same way for the flesh of a man.Andrey Voznesensky
With good reason, Voznesensky is a hero to all those in the Soviet Union who want their poets to tell them the truth. But at the risk of his career, freedom, and perhaps even his life, he has never been able to do much more than drop hints.Andrey Voznesensky
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