Dan Markovich
trans. Matvei Yankelevich
Anyway,
We’re Bigger!
Dad…
A
map.
I’m
six.
“America
is our enemy!”
I
look at the map and laugh…
“But
we’re bigger than they are!”
Georgik
disappeared in America. Dad’s cousin.
Before
the war. They docked in an American port.
He jumped into the water. Swam it. Stayed.
“America
is a biiiig country,” says Dad.
“But
we’re bigger!”
“He’s no brother of mine,” dad swore all his life.
Thirty
years later…
A
photo from America. Old George. A blue marine beret. A grim shore. A
severe-looking shore. His own bungalow. "We fix it up every year, don’t
dare
get
sick, don’t spend our money without good reason…” A wife, three girls. One’s
name is Brenda, or is that his wife’s name? I don’t remember...
Natalya.
In Leningrad. A translator. Pretty. Moved away—for her son’s sake. Or maybe she
was lying…
Came
back twenty years or so later. For just a visit.
Says
longing made her moan at first. Worked all day, studied at night. A foreign
language…
But
now she’s a librarian! An apartment in Jersey.
Wrinkled,
old… But her posture… The whole world in her pocket!…
“What
a pension! You’ve never dreamed of such a pension…”
“I’ve
never dreamed of pensions. I fly in my dreams…”
“What
have you seen…and me… I’ve seen the whole world. America is kind… to those who do it themselves… who clamber their
way up slowly, tearing their fingernails…”
“Hah!
If you tear off your fingernails on the way, they grow back by the yard… Be
wary of the clawed ones…”
We
lived alright, didn’t tear a damn thing. They give you a bill through the
little window—party on!
Two
times a month. We lived quietly, peacefully...
And
we’re bigger anyway!…
I’m
riding without a ticket. Take a long walk on a short pier, all.
The
conductor’s on her way, Tamarka…
“Lay
off, I’m drunk since morning…”
I
ride on, no problem...
Out
the window there’s a poster. “Hey, smart guy, where’s your money, huh?”
America, you making fun of me?!
“What
do I need money for, I’m smart as it is!”
An
American woman tells her husband: “Loser! No money, no success. You’re a
nobody.”
The
husband hanged himself…
What
a fool!...
Another
took to drink, a third one was stabbed to death by the mob.
What
do they need money for? What’s the big to-do…
Rich,
but poor bastards.
I
got up and ran from my wife. Ain’t no fool!...
However
you turn it, America, however you twist it...
Even
so—we’re bigger!
Einstein
went to America to escape the Fascists.
What’s
feeding another Jew to them.
He
made them the bomb in return.
Maybe
it wasn’t him, but a Jew anyway.
But
the USSR showed them…a hydrogen middle finger!
“America,
what’s up now? Keeping quiet?”
Anyway—we’re
bigger!
And
then all of a sudden we explooooded, collaaaapsed.
Deafening,
tooth-crushing…
They’re
not handing out any more at the little window…
Stomach
turning, no strength left…
Meanwhile
she’s there like always…
America!...
With
her happy face…her wide strides…
Kicking
doors open, like the master with his boots!... Throwing around her charity…
Now
we’re friends, ha-ha!
This
fat-assed democracy has stamped out our
peace and quiet…
But
nothing can be done—hello, hurray!... Since, from the other side, they crowd
and push us—from the jungles and the deserts…
They’ll
gobble us up without mustard… savages, savages!...
Choosing
the best of two evils?..
“You
don’t like it?... You want to be poor, sick, and smart?”
“We
were poor, but we were proud, and strong!…”
“Dad,
aren’t we bigger than they are?”
“So
what, what now, America?”
“You’re
all idiots.”
“But,
at least…our idiots were smarter than you smart guys.”
And
they keep on pounding the same: “The best writer is the one who sells the
best!”
What
fooools…
“The
best artist is the one who everyone’s buying!”
What
COCKsuckers...
“The
best man has his prick in a Guinness!”
Hrmph!..
“And
our richest man--his is micro! and soft!”
Wha!
It’s
like a kindergarten. There’s no doubt about it—they’re sicko.
But
it’s no match: we’re bigger!
Georgik,
are you still alive?...
Natasha,
where’d you go?...
Hi
there, I’m still keeping warm...
Money?...
What for?... They’ve banned drinking, you can’t smoke?...
No,
I won’t budge.
This
is my land.
Not
in a worn-out sack, in a secret pocket—
I
stand on it with my whole two feet, still standing!...
I
haven’t got long?...
Yeah,
they’ll bury me.
They’ll
spit on me, kiss me,
Pull
me close to their chests, send me to the devil...
Let
them.
Home
isn’t where it’s better, it’s where you love.
“Dad,
we’ll always be bigger!”
Now
we’re drifting… like you once drifted…
Two
hundred years ago—you swam to land…
The
iceberg’s big, and won’t melt before winter…
I’ll
live out my years...
I
loved Einstein.
I
loved my dad.
And
Uncle Grisha, though I didn’t know him…
“Dad,
aren’t we bigger than all of the rest?”
Dad
died—long time ago...they caught him, arrested him, made him show his passport…
America,
d’you know this song?[1]…
How
would you?...
Then
they said it was just a little mistake…
Turned
out, a brother can’t answer for his brother…
He
came back home and died toward evening.
Of
happiness...
Nothing
more.
Hey
there, America!
I
haven’t seen you.
And
won’t see you.
Don’t
need it.
Swim
my own way...
My
regards to our boys!
And
don’t forget—
Anyway,
we’re bigger!
[1] A
reference to the extremely popular folk song “Chizhik-Pyzhik” (Birdie-Lordie)
in which Chizhik gets arrested and the militiamen ask him for his passport.