|A Ballad for My Friends: Terrorists and Cannibals|
Автор: Slav Раздел: На иных языках
|Said the Bard: the whole world is no more than a stage|
upon which men and women act.
Some play kings, other – fools, though all get the same wage
from which nobody may deduct.
There are flowers, applause, stumping, hissing, and coughs,
there’s no end to intrigue, until
after all blah-blah-blah, all encores and get-off’s
someone comes to cash-up the till.
‘Words that cannot be turned into cash - worthless trash,
do not utter them, even in jest.
Words should come ready-made, simple, like Instant Mash -
joy to swallow and to digest!
Ban the fat words! Away with them! Boo them off shelves!
Hail the healthy and garish stuff!
People! Go for tofu and cous-cous! Stuff yourselves!
If you’d rather eat meat… well… Tough!
Too much salt? – Chuck it out. Not at all? – That’s the one!
All in bite-size, no chewing ‘em –
Gobble up! Here’s some more! Atta boi! Go, me son!…
Ask no questions! Be what I am.
Words that cannot be eaten or worn as a hat,
neither borrowed, bought, leased nor sold,
have no value, and thus are inherently bad;
clever marketing rules the World!
Pennies, kopecks and cents – this is what really counts:
have a talent? why, make it – two!..’
Let them think so… Let’s humour the philistine cunts.
We know different. Yes, we do.
Far apart, in our dark caves and burrows, free but
starved of air, blinded, sick, alone,
with our own blackened teeth we carve, slice, tear and cut
words from human flesh, blood, and bone.
We would rather drop dead than eat what we are told.
Time is nigh - we’ll come out at last
and deliver our judgement to this healthy world:
final, awful, and deadly blast.