| I was both weak and vulnerable, trembling with my whole being,
|
| He bled with his sick, tormented gut, -
|
| And, as if in a vulgar potpourri, a huge forehead appeared in the door
|
| And lit up from within with healthy evil.
|
| But the hand twitched imperiously: "Lie facing the wall!" |
| —
|
| And so they began to knead my sides on the sticky trestle bed.
|
| And the most important - sat down at the table, sighed wildly
|
| And he brought something on me, similar to a "case".
|
| And he brought something on me, similar to a "case".
|
| Here, in the tenacious and thin fingers, the Adam's apple twitched funny,
|
| They pressed in the groin, then under the belly, on the poor fellow's liver.
|
| When they pressed under the ribs - how my insides throbbed!
|
| And the pen spit blood into innocent paper.
|
| In half delirium, in half heat stripped naked, -
|
| In the corner, an old hag was preparing a needle, -
|
| And from the roots of the hair to the toes, horror weaved through the body:
|
| What if they put him to sleep with an injection so that the sleepy one breaks?!
|
| What if they put him to sleep with an injection so that the sleepy one breaks?!
|
| He, working on my stomach, squeezed my skull, and then
|
| He pulled my forearms with a tourniquet and the blood flow was interrupted.
|
| I used to squeal, but fell silent, - dry lips to the castle, - |
| And he groaned, grimaced, wet, wrote and rejoiced.
|
| He went into a rage - a familiar rage - but I how to yell:
|
| “What are you writing? |
| Well, show me the secret mura!..”
|
| Assistant - a former psychopath - tied my wrists, -
|
| Dimmed, laid out in a row, the instruments of passion.
|
| Dimmed, laid out in a row, the instruments of passion.
|
| I rub and beat, and my temper is cool, I can - peddling, I can - hype, -
|
| But here they will humble, but here they will take away - I bow and miss.
|
| I'm lying naked as a falcon, and the main one - sniffing and sniffing at the table -
|
| Everyone writes something in the protocol, although I do not answer.
|
| No, you need to save your strength, otherwise you are weak, tired, -
|
| After all, soon the heels will burn, so that I laugh,
|
| I keep on the nerve, on the alert, but I feel disgusting, -
|
| They put an intestine down my throat - I spat it back out.
|
| They put an intestine down my throat - I spat it back out.
|
| I am taken in a vise, I am taken in pincers - they crawl on me, they crawl on me,
|
| Everyone wants to call, find out, everyone tries by touch.
|
| Not even five minutes will pass here, when the soul is taken out, crushed,
|
| Everything will be defiled, torn, squeezed and rinsed.
|
| “Breathe, breathe deeply through your mouth! |
| Yes, breathe out - you will die! |
| “Exhale here - then it’s unlikely that you will even breathe!”
|
| With all my parched mouth, I bare my teeth: “Well, order!
|
| The number won’t work with me, comrades-guys!”
|
| The number will not work with me, comrades-guys!"
|
| They turned off the light and turned on the gas, some kind of board lit up, -
|
| And pus splashed from the eyes, and the trachea gurgled.
|
| And he went berserk, went into ecstasy, for some reason they dragged the basin ...
|
| I saw it once - a film as a trophy.
|
| They come to me from behind and give me an injection...
|
| "Inject, you sons of bitches, but give the protocol!"
|
| I even got down on my knees, I pressed my forehead to the pelvis;
|
| I demanded and threatened, pleaded and humiliated myself.
|
| I demanded and threatened, pleaded and humiliated myself.
|
| But they tightened the tourniquet, I see there - they are burning the spirit lamp,
|
| All the red devil is waiting with a hair whip.
|
| Where, where, and then they will take their own! |
| And I guess, old jester:
|
| When is the red-hot rod - now or later?
|
| The Sabbat was hot and bald, the sweat poured hot, -
|
| There was a ringing - and the raven sat on the white shoulder.
|
| And the raven shouted: "Nevermore!" |
| - he is agile and quick, -
|
| Reminds me: a torture chamber opens right into the morgue.
|
| Reminds me: a torture chamber opens right into the morgue. |
| I weakly raise my tail, although for them I am stupid and simple:
|
| "Hey! |
| You will have to answer for your biased interrogation!
|
| You, as you are called by name, have returned to the old days!
|
| But the interrogation protocol must be given to us!”
|
| And I mow over my shoulder at that scribble:
|
| “I won’t sign this for you until I read it!”
|
| Someone's yellow back answered me impassively:
|
| "But your signature is not needed - everything is clear to us without it."
|
| "But your signature is not needed - everything is clear to us without it."
|
| "Sister, dear, do not be afraid - I will not be silent, I will not wipe myself,
|
| I'll get off the protocol when I meet with a lawyer!
|
| I didn’t say anything to them, I didn’t show them to anyone, -
|
| Tell everyone I knew: I remained their brother!”
|
| He said, drawing a line: "Read, they say, and cool down!"
|
| I dug into that scribbling, and there is only Latin ...
|
| There are circles in the eyes, zeros in the brain, damned fear, disappear:
|
| They just took a medical history!
|
| They just took a medical history! |