Three poems

Background is on Bitcoin page

Three poems from the same bucket - 1994, 1996, 1998

In 1994 he learned how to go long.
In 1996 he learned how to go short and went to NY.
In 1998 he switched to exotic assets.

The interesting moment here is the level of optimism that accurately decreases proportionally to the skill level.

What, what, what, what else is white there? My God!
Spanish three-masted frigate... everything according to the text, here they are.
However, it's a pity, shipowner, because if you follow me,
then don't count on reciprocity. Gone are those days.

Let's not hit each other on the shoulders and talk nonsense.
At least salute with all your guns, even maneuver, even herd,
at least enroll me as an admiral out of turn, at least
get rich - I won't sit in your tub.

The jumping is over, the punch is drunk, the hymns are sung.
But even more so in secret storage rooms
shine, pointing their mirrored sides at the clouds,
and allow me to breathe from now to now

my rockets.

A replacement for happiness, as the classic put it.
Only their power and authority -
now the stronghold of my last aspirations.

Who, who, who, who else is from the truck, over their heads,
almost singing, turning to potential rebels,
that we need to act, losers like him, among the eagles,
and not being inactive, like me, is akin to snakes, losers, losers?..

Shurum-burum, soul savior! Rant, howl.
Become a proletarian of all countries and a luminary of all sciences.
Fight the snakes, greet the eagles, but meanwhile don't forget:
where there are snakes, there are no vipers.

And even your silhouette on coins
doesn't mean you're a deity.
This may be an important moment for a coin collector,
but he should have seen how much there is of everything

in my rockets.

What a sesame for a developed numismatist!
Silver and gold.
Viva and bravo, if it rhymes, then bravo'.

What, what, what, what else is he trying to captivate me with?
A land where every century makes noise about a new truth for children,
which seems to embrace the plan of destinies and the topic of the day,
and amazes with its novelty, and makes everyone blush and whiter?..

And every time I wake up from sleep to this hubbub
and I go out into open space, and close, without interference,
I look at the new truth and am convinced that it
old as death, terrible as mortal sin.

And, like a shielman to his harmonics,
or climbers to their Mont Blancs,
or Panurge and others like him - to our sheep and to others,
I always come back every time

to my rockets;

into a distorting mirror, where the thing doubles, crumples,
crushes, breaks -
and only then is it destroyed as a class.
Nonsense, nonsense, I tell you - it's all nonsense.
And Newton is nonsense, and his laws are nonsense.
At first I objected, doubted: "What if it's not like that?" -
but then I matured and found that it was indeed all nonsense.

I looked ahead and saw the horizon ahead.
And I turned back, but even there the horizon was blazing.
Lucky ... then lucky ... then not very lucky:
I opened the language dictionary, but there is a horizon there too.

You and I are moths, we crawled in the wrong direction all the time!
I knew, I didn't crawl, I told everyone: "not going there."
We are nobody, we are nowhere, we are on both sides of the horizon.
We will turn there, where it turns out that it is not the right direction.

So what about moths? - I'm telling you, it's all nonsense.
And New York is nonsense, that is, no ... still not nonsense ...
Heaven has nothing to do with it, don't worry about anything, girl,
for no apparent reason falling onto the bed of sin.

The moths will disappear, but it's not you and me who will disappear.
Let the moths disappear, and we will wait,
looking at how the stalactite flows with a burning tear,
and under it the stalagmite grows in its own way.

And if the cloud looks like a tank,
That means he's supposed to do it that way.
And when the snow surface becames thinner,
It's time to change your skis.

Listen, I have a friend
healthy, sensible, sober of all,
and, by the way, not very brave,
but no matter what you do to him - he loves snakes.

Sometimes he wanders through the sands for weeks,
only feeding himself with moths,
to pet the snake with his bare hands,
... with all four hands ...
Birds have it easy. Don't care about science.
Coo and croak. Enjoy natural food.
I'm sitting in front of a star map.
I read the encyclopedia aloud and tremble.

What a multitude of fiery curiosities are swarming in space! Fear.
Everything freely holds, moves mobile, fits in it to the utmost.
The earth lies confidently on three whales.
And we are with you somehow, God knows what.

Trade flourishes. Raisins in price.
At the top point is the demand for wild garlic and sorghum.
And I languished on nervous grounds,
unable to think without delight about whales.

What courage, what grace, what thousands of tons!
What a smooth existence, what a non-vain disposition!
Whales are slowly swallowing their plankton.
And we look at the seismograph in bewilderment.

At the cinema there is premiere of "Zabriskie Point".
There are no tickets. And no money for tickets.
Go send a letter to the newspaper
that it is better not to save the Earth.

It is not for nothing that it is so flat, it is not in vain that it looks like a disk.
An unfenced region was deliberately invented for the population.
The earth deliberately takes this risk.
And we don't appreciate it. Ah ah ah.

Darkness rustles. Smokes a lantern.
An airbus is flying, not very noticeable in the clouds.
I sit, I turn the celestial globe,
leafing through the interplanetary atlas, And I am silent.

And what can you say when you are only capable of the interjection "ah".
Well, as a last resort, as an exception, to the exclamation "oh".
The earth lies confidently on three whales.
And we are with you, we are with you, we are with you ...

It's 1998. "Zabriskie Point" was 1970. And I think the dude has money for the ticket.

Sep 15 2023