Salman Rushdie Reading Sufi Poetry

• By: Nataly     Date: 18-06-10
•     Flag Abuse

Dear Salman!
I congratulate you with your Birthday.
This is my gift for you.

To Master
To sir Salman Rushdie.
(variations on the theme
“ The Master and Margareta” by M. Bulgakov)

Be going mad.
It’s so simple.
The whole world went of its head,
The moon was pecked by the eagle,
As it is bread.
The wind is petting me by flow
By air lips and air hands.
Ah, Master, no problem, as you know,
Be going mad, be making mad,
To play with life, with fate, with troubles,
To catch by juggling laugh and light.
I grown into you with grubs.
Where are you? Where am I?
The night by menthol cools my soil.
Look, I am flying in the sky
Without feather, fear, clothes.
Ah, Master, why I have to die?
Is it impossible another?
Another role I want to play
Without death and grave and suffer.
Another pries I want to pay.
The choice was on highest level.
I gave my answer. Not forget.
No man can joke with the Devil.
And he is lover joking yet.
I could not hear the ovation.
Below swing, triumph, success.
Film serpentines in my hair as decoration
Of the snakes
Such strange surprise even from Devil
I could not wait. I could not wait.
My Master, look! The modern actress
Is born from dying MargarEt.
The pain is bursting me by talons.
A lot of blood floods in the sky.
Good bye.

Last pain… Last look…
Last page…
For meeting in your book…
For age…

Natalya Vlasova (Наталья Альтаир)