Moscow VII (Yukos)

So, this is her son.
An old man, a spiteful man,
an unattractive man.
A hero, an insect,
a thief.

So, this is her son.
He ekes his days out in the corner,
he consoles himself with bitterness.
He prints empty consolations,
he knows intelligence can become nothing.
Lacking a mirror, he has never seen his ugliness,
he never had the sense to tidy himself up.
In court he stands erect and excited, damp and wet -
an ambassador of democracy in the guise of a urinary appendage.

So, this is her son.
He still hopes his life will turn out well,
but his future hides away in the dark of his head.
His mother deceived him,
she had given birth to him only so he would suffer.
Now he has reached the end of his life,
though he will go on living.
Nothing new will happen to him,
neither in happiness nor in sorrow.

So, this is her son.
The winter sun casts no warmth on his head,
a former girl once sucked his youth dry.
Giving oath he is impotent as a man,
though his eyes are filled with the moisture of love glands.
He will not be finished off by a sun or a black star,
such bodies are too great for such an insignificant act.
His message turns out to be the same as that of the newspapers and the nightclub music:
“Waste away! Waste away!”

So, this is her son.
Now in this cathedral his suffering is organised into stone,
his underwear rots from sweat and his bones wear out.
Gone are his weapons to protect himself from the poor and the isolated,
gone is the joy, gone is the anxiety.
All of the animals, the fish, that he has eaten
have left their expressions of deaf savagery and dumb frenzy on his face.
Beneath the postcard campaigns is a prostitute,
yet he wanders where no one needs him, gives himself to those who pay him nothing.

So, this is her son.
Every estate knows Descartes was a fool!
This man has never thought, yet he exists all the same.
His movements in the presence of a woman always were tormented and ashamed,
and now the playgrounds he paid for have carpets of broken glass.

So, this, we are told, is Our Father.