Сочинения Иосифа Бродского. Том IV

In walks the Emperor, dressed as Mars;
his medals clink and sway.
The General Staff sports so many stars,
it looks like the Milky Way.

The Emperor says, «I guess you guess

what you are here for».
The generals rise and bark, «Oh yes,
Sire! To start a war».

«Right», says the Emperor. «Our enemy

is powerful, mean, and brash.
But we’ll administer him such an enema
his toilet won’t need a flush.

«Move your artillery! Move your warships!

Where is my gorgeous horse?
Forward! May God, whom our nation worships,
join our brave air force!»

«Yes!» cry the warriors. «Our job is carnage,

ruin, destruction, void.
We promise, Sire: we’ll find a Carthage
and we’ll leave it destroyed».

«Great!» cries the Emperor. «What one conquers

is up to the scholars’ quills.
And let the Treasury boys go bonkers
trying to pay the bills».

The generals thunder: «Well said, Sire.

Our coin is of tolling bells.
May the sun that won’t set over your empire
rise for nobody else!»

And off roars the turbine, off clangs the metal,

off they march, hand on hilt,
as many a rose curls its tender petal
ready to wait and wilt.

II

It’s no Armageddon, it’s not some smarmy
earthquake or H-bomb test.
No, it’s just the Imperial Army
trying to do its best.

The sky is falling, the earth is gaping,

the ocean simply boils.
«Life», says the Emperor, «is just aping
popular abstract oils».

«War», he continues, «is like a museum».

And the Top Brass agree:
«Sire, we’ll paint like that ad nauseam,
since Art equals History!

«History never says it’s sorry,

nor does it say, What if.
To enter History, a territory
first has to come to grief».

«History never says it’s sorry»,

join the enlisted men.
«Who needs memento when we’ve got mori?
History must know when».

«Ah, tell them to turn the good old horizon

vertical, save its sail»,
adds the Emperor, with his eyes on
the most minute detail.

«Yes», cry the generals. «Yes, for heaven’s

sake. That’s what’s been amiss.
Let’s push the button and see what happens.
This must be a masterpiece».

And lo, the world turns topsy-turvy,

in other words, goes bust.
«Gosh», says the Emperor. «That was nervy,
but, in the context, just».

III