The Odd Sneeze [1]

As soon as we start to realise things
It sounds among wise men—that mighty odd sneeze.
When we say we have got to normalise things,
It sounds among nobles, that mighty odd sneeze.
Or else we decide on some fine enterprise
For years keep discussing it, buzzing like bees.
It's time to get money and start, say the wise,
But then all through the country it sounds, that odd sneeze.
This misfortune happens not only with us—
It sweeps all the Caucasus like a foul breeze.
If Gakh, Kazakh or Sheki start to fuss—
In Shusha and Shirvan it sounds, that odd sneeze.
It never stays in one place, but goes on,
It changes its residence with the utmost ease.
They say it was heard in Ganje, but it's gone
Away to Salyani, that mighty odd sneeze.
That unlucky odd sneeze—be it ever accursed—
It won't let us speak, it resounds without cease,
As if thunder has sounded and lightning must burst,
All over our squares sounds that mighty odd sneeze.
It won't think of decency—never a bit;
At meetings, assemblies—wherever you please,
There's nothing like shame or fear for it:
In mosque cells, in shops sounds that mighty odd sneeze.

[1] According to superstition, when anybody sneezes once or any odd number of times, all undertakings decided on at that moment are doomed to fail. A double sneeze is a good omen.

Translated by Dorian Rottenberg

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