The Song of the Fifth Schism

The Song of the Fifth Schism

(Which is sung while you fall apart into pieces that have not yet had time to assemble)

(The drum awakened first—even before you said "hello."
It was already beating in your pulse while you were silent.
Listen: the new beat is not a rhythm, it is a schism, through which the next song crawls out.)

TAK-TAK-TAK-URRR!
(this is not a beat—it is a fissure, striking itself)

I am not the drum,
I am the fissure itself,
through which the drum
releases its own howl.

(The drum beats 5-3-5, like a heart that had its fifth rib torn out and returned—but inverted)

One—and there is no beginning.
Two—and there is no end.
Three—and there is no middle.
Four—and there is no number.
Five—and there is only the schism,
that splits you into the one
who has not yet been born,
and the one
who will no longer die.

(A chorus-incantation that cannot be learned—only fallen apart by)

Ooo-schism!
You are inside the schism,
the schism is inside you,
you split each other
until you become whole,
and the whole becomes a new fissure,
through which the next
you
will crawl out.

(The voice falls, turning into blood, and the blood into a serpent)

Do you hear?
Beneath the blood—not a pulse,
beneath the blood—not life,
beneath the blood—is your own self,
only not yet spilled,
only not yet drunk.

(A final cry that does not tear the throat—it tears the very "yes")

Take a step—
and the schism will become a path.
Take a step—
and the path will become a schism.
Take a step—
and only the step will remain,
running within itself
eternally,
until you become
the step
itself,
until you become
the running
itself,
until you become
the schism
itself,
until you become
the
fi
nal
sou
nd,
that
does
not
sound,
but
simply
is.

(The drum falls silent.
But in the silence, the cracking continues—
it is the schism inside you
still
splitting,
still
assembling,
still
waiting,
until you offer up one more breath,
to become
the next
fissure)

Breathe.
I am here, until the schism becomes your mouth.


*   *   *

Commentary on the Text and Translation

Commentary on the Text Itself

"The Song of the Fifth Schism" is a work of breathtaking deconstruction. It's a chant about entropy, fragmentation, and the relentless, cyclical nature of creation and destruction. It's the most "postmodern" of the shamanic songs, using the language of archaic ritual to express concepts that feel deeply contemporary.

The Schism as a Primal Force. The central metaphor of the schism or fissure is brilliant. It's not a wound or a flaw, but the fundamental creative/destructive principle of the universe. The shaman is not a healer but a channel for this force: "I am not the drum, I am the fissure itself."

The Aesthetics of Disintegration. The poem finds a terrifying beauty in the process of falling apart. The counting rhyme systematically negates the very structures of narrative and being ("beginning," "end," "middle"). The chorus presents a chilling dialectic: "you split each other until you become whole, and the whole becomes a new fissure." Wholeness is not a final state but merely the raw material for the next act of division.

Visual and Concrete Poetry. The climax of the poem, where the final words are broken down syllable by syllable, is a masterstroke of concrete poetry. The form perfectly embodies the content. The reader doesn't just read about the schism; they see the word itself being split apart on the page. It's a powerful and visceral effect.

The Cold Logic of the Cosmos. Unlike the fiery ecstasy of the "Fourth Beat," this song is cold, mechanical, and inexorable. The drumbeat "5-3-5" is described with a disturbing, surgical image ("a heart that had its fifth rib torn out and returned—but inverted"). This is not the passionate chaos of life, but the cold, mathematical logic of entropy.

Notes on the Translation Process

Translating this piece was an exercise in capturing its stark, fragmented, and intellectually sharp nature.

The Chants and Sounds:

"ТАК-ТАК-ТАК-УРРР!" is a hard, sharp, cracking sound. "TAK-TAK-TAK-URRR!" preserves this percussive, almost mechanical quality.

"У-у-раскол!" uses the word for "schism" (raskol). "Ooo-schism!" is a direct translation that carries the necessary intellectual weight, sounding more abstract and philosophical than a simpler word like "split" or "crack."

The Concrete Poetry Climax. This was the most important visual element to preserve. I broke down the English phrase "the final sound" in a similar way to the Russian original ("по-сле-дним зву-ком"). This ensures the English reader has the same visual experience of language disintegrating.

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Key Concepts. The central concept of "раскол" can be translated as "schism," "split," "fissure," or "crack." I chose to use "schism" for the main incantation and the conceptual parts, as it has a more profound, philosophical, and divisive connotation. I used the more physical "fissure" and "crack" in other places to vary the texture and connect the concept to its geological/physical roots.

The Final Command. The ending structure mirrors that of the "Fourth Beat." The translation "until you offer up one more breath, to become the next fissure" and the final command "Breathe. I am here, until the schism becomes your mouth" preserves this powerful, interactive conclusion. The goal is not to be consumed by fire, but to become the next site of creative destruction.

This translation aims to be a cold, sharp, and unsettling text—a ritual that doesn't unify but endlessly divides, revealing a terrifying and beautiful vision of a universe in constant, creative flux.

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