Mal'chik-slepoj (translation)

Blind Boy

Blind boy

in a pink overcoat,

blue trousers, honey-haired

In the white car of a colorful electric train.

Blind boy

motions helplessly before himself

with eyes, nailed to his fingers

Asking the usual questions of childhood

his grandmother, crammed into a beige raincoat,

grandmother, slumbering in a shard of warmth -

"Grandmother, grandmother, grandmother, grandmother…

How are we riding?"

(train sounds)

Blind boy,

what awaits you in this

pounding, screeching space?

Begging for change in dirty train stations?

Gluing cartons? Wailing on an accordion?

Getting drunk by feel with a sick prostitute?

Or hear and

give the world music?

Give the world music…

O blind boy,

born out of the worlds wedged in obscurity -

You my light, you my century, you my little fountain of blood

O blind boy

Asking the usual questions of childhood

his grandmother, crammed into a khaki raincoat,

grandmother, slumbering in a shard of warmth -

"Grandmother, grandmother, grandmother, grandmother…

How are we riding?

What are we seeing?

How do we love?"

O blind boy

Blind boy…