The Pilgrims
Over the earth they come,
alpha-rays scorching them,
beta-rays scorching them,
gamma-rays scorching them,
passing Mecca and Rome,
passing Jerusalem,
ruins in front of them, ruins
behind them: the pilgrims.
Over the mountains they come;
the sea’s like dry land to them:
they suffer no harm, they succumb
to no plague, no famine.
They all have coins on their eyes,
and rockets in their hands,
and floppy discs in their minds.
They travel over the planet,
the round and empty planet,
though they’re not on earth any more,
and there’s no-one on earth any more,
and there isn’t an earth, any way,
any more.
Translated by Yuri DrobyshevCarol Rumens
Page(s) 109
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