Живой Труп - Анатолий Михайлов, перевод

I am only a thing in your quiet room
Throwing whispers without a clue

I am not in your thoughts and rumors
You would not recollect my looks

I’m staying crooked on your wall, like horror,
Question hanging over your head -
That’s

I have kept neither soul nor honor
Just a couple of cigarettes

http://www.stihi.ru/2006/11/26-719