Стихи  /  Дмитрий Быков  /  Made in USA

Made in USA

All my life I used to live

In a certain way:

I have nothing to forgive,

Nothing to obey.


Overbeaten like a beef

I am still okay

Having nothing to receive

From a chief (that means a thief),

Nothing to betray.


This is all I could achieve

For a nasty pay

Of a total unbelief

Which I never could relieve

Even for a day.


Now seeing the results

I am happy to

Recommend it to adults

And to children, too.


I was going step by step

From a pleasant lie.

Poor catcher’s lost his cap

Coming through the rye.


I was learning not to be.

Now I look at it

Just like one who’s got TB

Or another shit.


One who knows his rest is brief,

One who goes away,

Looking at his handkerchief

In a great dismay.