***
In this country without hinges
as prior to the deluge occurs
a strange constant phenomenon
as if one gave a bone to a hungry
dog, “Don’t stick it into your gut!”
They all hurry to kiss the ass
of a literary brilliant bedbug
with flabby phiz, newcomer
from Dead Sea with tiny step
of a louse with lousy writing
he tries to bite the humans.
He crawls, looking preoccupied.
The specialists in literature
claim all the other scribes
are doomed to failure since he
appeared. They translated him
into almost all the languages
except for Tuvan language
and Mordvin, they awarded
him prizes, they gave him money
they put him into school textbooks
they pulled his strings at the book fairs
the foreigners were judging him
by their own experience, by the psychology
of the people who live in tranquil countries.
Nonetheless there comes one and says,
“From so much kissing of this bedbug
remained a pile of wood shavings
that asphyxiate all that’s alive
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