Once people get under my skin, <br />they never find the exit. <br />They romp around, <br /> fill my insides with their song and dance, <br />make lots of noise, using my dumbness as their cover-up. <br />I’m full to bursting with wise men <br />and fools- they’ve utterly exhausted me! <br />So much so that my skin’s <br /> quite worn through <br />by their heels, rubbing from inside! <br />Give me a chance to breathe! <br />It’s all impossible! <br /> I’m stuffed to the gills <br />with those who’ve brought me so much joy <br />as well as those who’ve given most offence. <br />What has come over me? <br />What can I do with this great throng <br />stuck in my own small heart- <br />police are needed to keep order there! <br />I’ve gone a little cracked, <br />for there, in that secluded shade, <br />I’ve dropped none of the women <br />and none of them’s dropped me! <br />It’s awkward to revive dead friendships <br />however much you tire yourself with trying. <br />The only friends I’ve lost <br /> were on the outside, <br />but of those inside I’ve lost nobody. <br />All the people in my life I’ve quarreled with, <br /> or made friends with, <br />or only shaken hands with, <br />have merged in a new life under the old one’s skin- <br />a secret conflagration without flame. <br />The repossession of the unpossessable <br />is like a waterfall that rushes upward. <br />Those who have died <br /> have been born again in me, <br />those who have not been born as yet <br /> cry out. <br />My population is too large, <br />beyond the strength of just one man- <br />but then, a person would be incomplete <br />if he contained no others. <br /> <br /> <br />1975 <br />Translated by Arthur Boyars and Simon Franklin<br /><br />Yevgeny Yevtushenko<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/once-people/
