The Song of the Sixth Ardor

The Song of the Sixth Ardor

(Which is sung while you burn inward into yourself)

(I blew—and the fire exhaled darkness.
From the darkness crawled out a song that has no beginning and no end—
only a middle that bites its own tail.)

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

DUST-DUST-DUST-TAK!
(this is not ash—this is the first word spoken by the fire, when it did not yet exist)

I am not the flame,
I am the dust itself
that remains
when the flame goes into itself.

(The drum beats 6-2-6, like a heart that had its sixth rib carved out and made into a flute, through which the night itself blows.)

One—and there is no body.
Two—and there is no bone.
Three—and there is no ash.
Four—and there is no fire.
Five—and there is no dust.
Six—and there is only the dust,
that circles within itself
until it gathers into that
which has not yet been named.

(A chorus-incantation that cannot be sung—only inhaled)

Ooo-dust!
You are inside the dust,
the dust is inside you,
you inhale each other
until you become air,
and the air becomes the first drumbeat,
which has not yet been born,
but is already beating in your ribs.

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

Do you hear?
Beneath the ash—not death,
beneath the ash—not life,
beneath the ash—is your own self,
only not yet burned,
only not yet scattered.

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

Take a step—
and the dust will become skin.
Take a step—
and the skin will become dust.
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
dus
ty
in
ha
la
ti
on,
which
is
not
an
in
breath,
but
simply
a
qui
et
in
fi
ni
te
bre
a
thing.

(The drum falls silent.
But in the silence, the crackling continues—
it is the dust inside you
still
circling,
still
gathering,
still
waiting,
until you offer up one more breath,
to become
the next
speck of dust.)

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
Breathe.
I am here, until the dust becomes your heart.


*   *   *

Commentary on the Text and Translation

Commentary on the Text Itself

"The Song of the Sixth Ardor" is a breathtaking piece of minimalist, mystical poetry. It feels like the final stage of the entire shamanic cycle, a dissolution into the primal matter from which all things arise and to which all things return. It's a song of ultimate nullification and infinite potential.

The Metaphor of Dust: This is a brilliant central image. Dust is the final product of fire, ash, bone, and body. It represents the end point of all deconstruction, but also the fundamental building block of creation. It is both Alpha and Omega. The chant "DUST-DUST-DUST-TAK!" establishes this primal, elemental nature from the very beginning.

Ultimate Apophatic Mysticism: The counting rhyme is the most radical yet. It negates not just concepts like "home" or "body," but the very stages of its own process: body, bone, ash, fire, and even dust itself. From this total negation, a new potential arises: "only the dust... that gathers into that which has not yet been named." This is a perfect description of creation ex nihilo.

Concrete Poetry and Dissolution: The climax, where the words themselves disintegrate into a visual representation of "a quiet infinite breathing," is a masterstroke. It's even more ambitious than the deconstruction in the "Fifth Schism." The reader doesn't just read about dissolving into dust and breath; they watch it happen to the language on the page. This is an incredibly powerful and effective technique.

A Song of Quietude: Unlike the ecstatic fire of the "Fourth Beat" or the cold fission of the "Fifth Schism," this song is profoundly quiet. Its power lies not in violence or energy, but in stillness and silence. The final state is not a bang, but a "quiet infinite breathing." It feels like the calm at the center of the storm, the silence after the universe has ended and before it has begun again.

Notes on the Translation Process

Translating this piece was an exercise in minimalism and capturing a sense of profound stillness.

The Chants and Sounds:

"ПЫЛЬ-ПЫЛЬ-ПЫЛЬ-ТАК!" translates directly to "DUST-DUST-DUST-TAK!" The hard "TAK" sound provides a percussive, grounding end to the whispery "DUST."

"У-у-пыль!" became "Ooo-dust!" to maintain the incantatory pattern of the cycle.

The Concrete Poetry Climax: This was the most crucial part to translate visually. The Russian phrase "пыльным вздохом" (dusty inhalation) was long, as was "покойное бесконечное дыхание" (quiet infinite breathing). I needed English phrases that could be broken down in a similar, visually "dust-like" way.

"dus / ty / in / ha / la / ti / on" works well, breaking the concept into small, floating syllables.

The final phrase, "a / qui / et / in / fi / ni / te / bre / a / thing," is a long, slow exhalation on the page, perfectly mirroring the meaning. I added the final "a" to "breathing" to stretch the word and make the final line a single syllable, emphasizing the finality and quietness.

Key Concepts: The translation focuses on the core concepts of dust, breath, and the process of negation. The line "когда пламя уходит в себя" ("when the flame goes into itself") was translated directly to preserve its mysterious, introspective quality.

The Ending: The final interactive command, "Breathe. I am here, until the dust becomes your heart," was kept stark and direct. It concludes the cycle by placing the final act of creation (or dissolution) in the hands of the reader, making their breath the catalyst for the next cycle.

This translation aims to be a quiet, meditative, and profoundly unsettling text—a whisper that speaks of the end and beginning of everything, leaving the reader in a state of tranquil, potent emptiness.