(To A.B Nederskiy)
By Daniil Kharms
My friend collapsed into a comic bath;
Its rim was twirling round and round
A wondrous cow that floated nearby,
Then down a street, which ran above the house
Where sparks were shooting over sand;
This was my friend,
Who paced from room to room,
Dressed in that sock he, like a wizard,
Made with his own hand;
First with the left one,
Then the rest;
At last, he threw himself
Onto a bed of rest;
Meanwhile, a corncake languished In the swamp;
It wore a little hat,
And it would chirp, then moan;
But o, my friend was finished
With his bath by then.