No one to blame now for my lot - I groan and weep: In someone elseís rut I got, itís very deep. I used to pick and choose my goals, I felt so proud, And in this rut, itís just no go - no getting out. It has such slippery and steep Rough edges, and it is so deep. I am cursing those who made this rut, Iím afraid I shall soon burst a gut, Iím declining the noun, like a nut: "Of the rut, to the rut, by the rut..." I wonder why I canít stay put such cockiness. Conditions in the rut are good - well, more or less. No one will slap you down, no fear - no fear at all! And if you want a nice career - get on the ball! The folks are always nice and fat, Quite comfortable in the rut, And I quickly convinced myself that We are all in the same cosy rut. Steady, mate, as you go: wheel to wheel - Youíll end up where everyone will. Then someone shouted boiling mad, "Make way, you there!" And he began to fight the rut, the crazy bear. He burnt in argument his whole tank of goodwill. Phut went the inserts of his soul - snap went the wheel! And still, the silly ass fought hard, Itís wider now, the bloody rut. Soon we see that his track is cut short - Someoneís booted the crank off the road. And indeed, who was he to obstruct Heavy traffic in that good old rut? My turn to fret, the coolerís dead, it will not cool. No driving, this - itís blood and sweat, itís push and pull. I mean, I should get out and push - I really ought, But other stragglers in the slush may pull me out. I wait and wait for help in vain. "This rutís all wrong", I think again. How Iíd like to spit slush, slime and muck In this alien rutís stupid mug - I dug deeper, and got firmly stuck, And killed all hope for those at the back. I felt myself break out in sweat, now cold, now hot. And I went gingerly ahead along a board. Just look, the rutís been washed away by springtime floods, Weíre saved at last - there is a way out of this rut! My wheels kept spitting viscous mud - To hell with this ungodly rut! Listen you, stragglers, do as I do! Do not trail me. Iíll go it alone. This is my rut, it isnít for you - So get out by a rut of your own!
© Sergei Roy. Translation, 1990