Аллен Гинзберг в переводах Михаила Гунина

Last nite I dreamed  of T.S.  Eliot welcoming me to the land of dream  Sofascouches fog  in England  Tea  in his  digs Chelsea rainbows  curtains on hiswindows, fog seeping in the chimney but a nice warm house and an  incrediblysweet hooknosed  Eliot he loved me,  put me up, gave me a couch to sleep on,

conversed kindly, took me serious asked my opinion on Mayakovsky I  read himCorso Creeley Kerouac advised Burroughs Olson Huncke the bearded lady in theZoo,  the intelligent puma in  Mexico  City 6 chorus boys  from Zanzibar whochanted in wornout  polygot Swahili,  and the  rippling rhythms of Ma Rainey

and  Rachel  Lindsay. On  the  Isle  of  the Queen  we had a  long evening'sconversation  Then  he tucked me in  my long  red underwear  under a  silkenblanket by the fire on the sofa gave me English dottle and went off sadly tohis bed, Saying ah Ginsberg I am glad to have met a fine young man like you.

At last,  I  woke  ashamed of myself.  Is he  that good and kind? Am  I thatgreat? What's my motive  dreaming  his manna? What  English Department wouldthat impress? What failure to be perfect prophet's made up here? I  dream ofmy kindness to T.S. Eliot wanting  to be a historical  poet and share in his

finance of Imagery- overambitious dream of eccentric boy. God forbid my evildreams come true. Last nite I dreamed of Allen Ginsberg. T.S. Eliot would'vebeen ashamed of me.

Under The World There's A Lot Of Ass A Lot Of Cunt