breakfast
when it rains here
it will rain for a long time
rather like
a translucent blood transfusion
lunch
the majority of this world's
whimsical insects (which are absolutely not of this world)
appears to have been drawn
during
a beautifully interrupted sexual act
dinner
the white god is bored in Africa
and when people visit him
he
hides behind the door
entertains himself
pretending to be a child
and in a changed voice
he says
'I can't open the door,
my parents aren't home'
Translated from the Russian by Dina Gusejnova and Rebecca Steltner
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem