For The Brilliant Brains [ Ot bol'shogo uma (От большого ума) ]
For The Brilliant Brains
For the brilliant brains – begging bowls and jails.
For the boisterous minds – only ditches and dikes.
For the beautiful souls – only lice and skin sores.
Universal love makes mincemeat out of your face.
Morning dew on the feet, windward in a bed sheet.
From infertile brain pests to ethereal guests;
From the tables that are set to breaches in the heads;
From the closed up doors to the dumb brutes in tombs.
On the course alongside the black satellite flies.
He will save; he will ease; he will deliver us peace.
At the round table in dark ‘neath the wing that is rough.
The bill in red and white: “Hey, buddy, start the pushbike!”
People, do start your motion to the meaningless social,
We will confabulate – how do we arrange our rave?
To work our will upon the land of morons’ spawn,
To sit like a mute mob; to rap on the tabletop.
‘Cause for the brilliant brains – begging bowls and jails;
For the boisterous minds – only ditches and dikes...
More translations of "Ot bol'shogo uma (От большого ума)"
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