Buch lesen: «The Creator of Worlds / Создатель миров (английская версия)»

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Preface

In the end things must be as they are and have always been – the great things remain for the great, the abysses for the profound, the delicacies and thrills for the refined, and, to sum up shortly, everything rare for the rare.
Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

My book will tell you a story about the existence of an individual in a society illustrated by the example of a creative person. It doesn’t make any difference what time these events take place in, for our society won’t ever change. It is, also, of no importance whether or not this creative person has achieved success, gained some popularity or earned love of people, since fame is a fickle friend, and all the achievements and merits can collapse like a card house by a puff of wind, when society hears a random word and believes it.

“Society often forgives the criminal; it never forgives the dreamer”. The criminal belongs to the system their society is based on, while the dreamer pushes the boundaries, and that is why the latter is perceived as something cryptic, terrifying and fearsome by the society. The dreamer is not like anybody else, their thoughts are higher and cleaner than those of ordinary members of the public. The dreamer is an artist who sees the whole world as a big canvas, which they can alter at any moment, and they do so. The dreamer is able to notice incredible things, find beauty in everything, they are refined and highly sensitive, they see and believe in miracles and are able to perform them. Dreams, thoughts and ideas are immortal, it is impossible to kill them. Therefore, nothing can stop and “fix” the dreamer, whos doomed to remain misunderstood and unaccepted. Society will never be able to accept the dreamer and forgive them, for they have managed to be better, cleaner and higher than the society itself and those who live within the bounds of laws and bans. Society intentionally poisons the dreamer’s life and desires to destroy and ruin this “faulty component of the mechanism” as soon as possible, launching the so-called “witch-hunt” against them. “He laid himself bare in his verses, involuntarily, in fits of poetic ecstasy. Leave curiosity to the masses and be at one with Genius. The masses eagerly read confessions, memoirs, because in their meanness they rejoice at the debasement of the great, at the weakness of the powerful. They are delighted with the revelation of each ugly detail. He is small, like us, he is low, like us! You lie, bustards, he is small and low – but not like you – different”.

It is no secret to anyone that every human being’s life has its sorrows and griefs, and none of us have the strength to choose the time when these or those events happen to us. One’s life is easy and everything goes like clockwork, another person’s life is like keys of a piano, but sometimes life happens to be a panther, when one bad thing is followed by another, as in one of A.S.Pushkin’s poems “One dawn hurries to relieve the other, Allowing half-an-hour to night”. In the same manner “life” being a professional fighter ceaselessly strikes at the cornered man and there is no referee who can stop the fight… This poetry collection tells a story in whose turn of events we’ll become the witnesses of horrible things, which are to happen to the main character throughout the whole narration and we’ll see what impact misfortunes and human cruelty has on the life of the main character. Will they be able to overcome this alone, find strength and get their life back or only a miracle might save them? Will they succeed in overthrowing the cruelty and ignorance of the crowd or are they destined to part company with the real world and opt for escapism becoming a king in the kingdom of oblivion?

This book is dedicated to all creative people who have already passed away, who live now and who are yet to be born, but, anyway, they will take a creative path and become the creators of worlds. No one can change the world for the better alone. However, if each of us always questions themselves: “what is funny about peace, love and understanding?”, then together we will manage to make out world cleaner, better and kinder than it is, since “everyone can give at least some love and warmth to the others…” Do whatever it takes to dream and try to make your dreams come true, for a tiny bit of world creators lives in each of us, and each of us is able to perform miracles.

Aleksandr Tsekhanovich

L’ALBATROS

Souvent, pour s’amuser, les hommes d’équipage
Prennent des albatros, vastes oiseaux des mers,
Qui suivent, indolents compagnons de voyage,
Le navire glissant sur les gouffres amers.
A peine les ont-ils déposés sur les planches,
Que ces rois de l’azur, maladroits et honteux,
Laissent piteusement leurs grandes ailes blanches
Comme des avirons traîner à côté d’eux.
Ce voyageur ailé, comme il est gauche et veule!
Lui, naguère si beau, qu’il est comique et laid!
L’un agace son bec avec un brûle-gueule,
L’autre mime, en boitant, l’infirme qui volait!
Le Poète est semblable au prince des nuées
Qui hante la tempête et se rit de l’archer;
Exilé sur le sol au milieu des huées,
Ses ailes de géant l’empêchent de marcher.

Charles Baudelaire

Seal of Cain

Foreword:

I don’t care
what day
it will be tomorrow, or even
what day today was.
It’s always with me, both my hell…
(pause)
and Your Kingdom of Heaven.

02.10.2022

«Read your name…»

Read your name
On the tomb.
Did you think about something
like this? That’s all.
Earth will not release
you. Learn that your dead body
can hunger for passion.
It can go beyond expressions.
Don’t wake it up, my friend,
let it sleep forever old.
Moon and stars thus
(in the night sky above us)
shine with the glory
of silver and gold.

02.10.2022

«Sane or insane…»

Sane or insane?
Underline it in the multiple-choice
questionnaire.
I’d rather have my way
without compromising, at least.
From open veins
oozing mercury,
but as people say,
it’s not the point.
A dead heart tears apart
the rib cage.
Are we on the same page?
I can’t sleep because of
the suffering of love.
Don’t try to dive into the bottle:
you simply won’t sink.
Whatever you do,
love will sting.
Calm your head. But please
give me a chance to see the hot coal
of your heart flaming again.
There aren’t many chances,
but let’s see.

07.08.2022

«One should not think…»

One should not think
That they will accept me,
Or even more, that I could be
Understood.
I am for all of you,
Only another one.
Sir Christophe Rocancourt,
Covered by the mist
Of bravest curses.
I am an oath, fixed by blood, not ink
And firm handshakes,
I am standing here, a leprotic
Idiot, with my back to the audience.
I know an enigma of seven seals
And copper cups and tubes.
Every hour my face changes.
I was a happy child, now a crazy
Old man. My babe, my beauty,
I am your lover, your martinet.
I am a horny husband
Or somebody’s brother.
I am a lost soldier
Without a tomb.
I am Gwynplaine.
Let me explain.
I am a prisoner of my veins,
Who loves morphine.
I am Huckleberry Finn.
I am a guy from lifelong sentences,
From a prison called
“Black dolphin”.
I am a peacock without a voice,
A raging pavian.
A citizen of deserts and
Hot savannah.
I am Mister Tic-Tac-Toe.
Exchanging admiration, lust
And disgust,
without a point of return.
I am a city with fires of sunsets,
And doors of hell and heaven
Are opened in front of me.
Every day dying
And resurrecting,
Like a grain in the millstones
of mundane life,
And the firmament becomes dust.
Death follows me
On its white horse,
Bringing more problems, besides health —
Then a rider on the red horse,
who mutilated me.
And the rider on the black horse
Killed my last hopes.

20.10.2022

«I had only small successes…»

I had only small successes,
as rare as people on the night street.
And from birth to death,
I was covered with a mist of speculation.
Where am I going, finally?
What will happen if I gaze into the abyss?
Who are you? (It’s still a miracle for me.)
There is no smoke without fire
(They say). Is it love or just cheap magic?
Hey! The angel of love treated me like garbage.
Psyche makes fun of me.
How dare she?
When I hear your name, I see
A fearless goddess, beautiful.
I was charmed by you and
I stand like a stone sculpture,
And I suspect all miracles.
Because of these rewards, I will face torments.
If I start to trust, I will be crucified,
And will feel a spear under my ribs.
Then the jackal-critics will tear me apart!
Don’t trust the rulers of fate,
Remember – dreams will not come true!
Only sweat and blood, and hard work
Will open the gates of Eden.
Hunger, cold, and need
With the creator to death, forever, indeed.
Do not believe in laudatory speeches,
And do not look for a meeting with Beauty!
If there is strength – work tirelessly,
And if not, burn in fiery hell!
When love and obsession pass,
Watch out for good signs!
The power of thought will stop the destruction,
Crowds of onlookers surprisingly —
Out of dirt, out of horror, out of words, nothingness…
Here it is… The promised land…

16–17.11.2022

«I solved many enigmas…»

I solved many enigmas,
Like Cain who killed his brother.
I lost heart, love, comfort —
Eternal wanderer, searching for shelter.
I am excommunicated everywhere.
Rejected by all.
As if a cherub rejected his wings.
My apostles are thirteen Judases.
And revenge is the coldest of dishes.
A wreath of thorns on my head —
I’ll keep it in memory of you.
I press forward in realms and dreams,
Trying to find a fallen star,
Which can change the destiny of the whole world,
Which can cure hatred, and halt degradation,
Which can teach us to love again
And live in peace with each other.

31.12.2022

«From my birth, I have had a gift…»

From my birth, I have had a gift,
(It seems like royalty, even without “publishing”),
But now, for all the rest,
I will have to face mockeries as blessings.
Even if my appearance is
Hidden from a million books,
Which tried to catch me,
All that people know is that on the body
Of a damned poet, there is a scar, brand, stigma.
This is not even an enigma.

I was marked by a bad spirit,
That others usually call “God”.
And now I am an outcast,
I am excommunicated everywhere
(like the Abominable Snowman).
If only you would meet me once,
you would see
the seal of Cain
on my body.
I destroy the fertility of the earth, no?
From the blue sea to the high mountains,
Plagues follow me,
And cities are devastated in degradation.
And nobody…

No more beautiful moments,
Wherever I search, there is no salvation for me.
I walked the promised land —
And I was everywhere persona non grata.
An outcast, a wanderer, lame, exhausted,
Desperately in love with my curse. Of course,
I am neither rapist nor murderer:
I am not a monster, but there is no place for me
Among people; I have been a damned poet from birth.

27.04.2022