Among the Multitude of Roads

Among the multitude of roads, Among countless triumphs and failures We run ahead, working our feet to the bone, Where there are no ever-present mockers. The urge for normality is a disease. With it, it's surely easier to make your way in the world Or squeeze faster into the ranks of servants. Not living in clover, just … on a platter. To enslave yourself, gone deaf forever — Now that's a fate not much better than death. To freeze in overalls branded «Human» And smile when they stroke you the wrong way. Of all the multitude of earthly living beings We got a role with a hefty fee. Dependence on a multitude of substances Pours from body to body in noisy bars. And souls, like Gogol's, are dead, The Lord's light no longer has power over them. The course toward righteousness is out of fashion, alas, And all that's trending is a stream of green hundreds. Among the multitude of roads Just don't lose the one that comes from the heart. Tread until you've worn out a hundred boots, When you arrive — take them off, set them by the door.