Charles Bukowski - La vita di Borodin

The life of Borodin

the next time you listen to Borodin

remember he was just a chemist

who wrote music to relax;

his house was jammed with people:

students, artists, drunkards, bums,

and he never knew how to say: no.

the next time you listen to Borodin

remember his wife used his compositions

to line the cat boxes with

or to cover jars of sour milk;

she had asthma and insomnia

and fed him soft-boiled eggs

and when he wanted to cover his head

to shut out the sounds of the house

she only allowed him to use the sheet;

besides there was usually somebody

in his bed

(they slept separately when they slept

at all)

and since all the chairs

were usually taken

he often slept on the stairway

wrapped in an old shawl;

she told him when to cut his nails,

not to sing or whistle

or put too much lemon in his tea

or press it with a spoon;

Symphony #2, in B Minor

Prince Igor

On the Steppes of Central Asia

he could sleep only by putting a piece

of dark cloth over his eyes

in 1887 he attended a dance

at the Medical Academy

dressed in a merrymaking national costume;

at last he seemed exceptionally gay

and when he fell to the floor,

they thought he was clowning.

the next time you listen to Borodin,

remember…