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By Pavel Chichikov
I am hamal, I carry the loads
The heavy loads
In this old black market called the world
On my back the semer, the pad which rests
On my rounded shoulders
To keep from being crushed
And what do I carry? I carry you,
Your heedlessness
Your self-satisfaction
How heavy you are, you do not know
For your feet, your feet
Never touch the ground, my load
I carry your heedlessness, self-
Absorption and the infinite
Ignorance of wise conversation
I watch where I my put my feet
But you
Never do since you ride on me, the hamal
And though you might gaze at leisure
Leisure, at the shafts of light
Your legs go where I carry them
Where are you going? But no
Don't ask
For I know but cannot tell you
I have never seen your proper face
Your face
Since you ride behind me
But I know, I know where you are
Heavy one
And where you go all bad things go
Which are heavy and useless
But must be borne
Because my master tells me so
