Daniil Kharms

The Constancy of Dirt and Joy

Cool water gurgles in the river,
mountain shadows lie down in a field,
and in the sky the light fades, while
birds have flown into our dreams,
and the janitor with his black mustaches
stands all night long by the rusty gate
and with his dirty hands he scratches
under his dirty hat his itching pate,
through windows hear the joyous din,
the stomp of feet and bottles’ ring.

A day goes by, and then a week,
and then the years are passing by,
and one by one in single file
the people vanish in their graves,
while the janitor with his black mustaches
stands all night long by the rusty gate
and with his dirty hands he scratches
under his dirty hat his itching pate,
through windows hear the joyous din,
the stomp of feet and bottles’ ring.

The moon and sun have paled together,
the constellations change their shape,
and motion turns to sticky syrup,
and time becomes a lot like sand.
Still the janitor with his black mustaches
stands all night long by the rusty gate
and with his dirty hands he scratches
under his dirty hat his itching pate,
through windows hear the joyous din,
the stomp of feet and bottles’ ring.

14 October 1933

Translated by Matvei Yankelevich

Go back