Your red gloves flapping
just like a dragonfly on my rough face, without
leaving me alone. I see your eyes beyond that
flapping. You won't let the dragonfly to rest a
moment. But you see that I draw back my head, but my
feet are at the same position. As you may be aware
that they had been before. Your hooks disfigure my
rough skin and beneath them my cheekbones and meat.
I love your fierce look and your fresh moving legs.
These hooks and punches that beat my face in and out.
They are links between us and they are not very
unimportant. I have nothing to do with them. The main
point is that you are my partner and competitor. I
couldn't be hearing without you. I love you for this
very reason; I love you and your boxing.
Beat! Oh, you are very smart, you hide your head
beyond the moving fists. Oh, yes my face. You have
learned to save your power and not wasting it, you
have learnt not to exhaust yourself. What's the use?
Left, left, right hook! You have learnt your lesson
well. You know how to distract the opponent with left
hand and punch a deadly strike. Do you hear cheers for
your upper cut? This upper cut will remain in the
memory of audience. They say do you remember that
upper cut, punching his jaw, Boom! Just like a canon.
But, you should ignore that hurrahs. They can do
nothing, but hurrah and bet. Look, they are shouting
their heads off to draw your attention and mislead
you. I know that my fans are cheering. I don't like to
look at them. I know that they enjoy the scene, in
which I resist forcefully, but I don't give a damn.
You are well aware that if you knock me down, my fans
will rear your apart. They are my fans. They cheer for
me for many years. They have been watching me in the
ring. They do not have change their seats.
Sometimes, a few of them come to this side. But, I
don't care. If there is a match, I will be preset
there. With audience, or without, I will stand up to
the end. But, my feet are stable and stoned. My flesh
and blood are beaten smashed and shrouded. My veins
transfer no blood or sweat. I stand there till my fans
throw flowers at me. If they stone me, I feel the same
I don't feel it. There is no pain. Just like now. You
smashed me with you first in my jaw. My left jaw, why?
You are looking at me. Staring at me. You have taken
me unconscious. The rest are like you. I am used to
it, however. You are all the same. Sometimes you
behave like others. I know that there is a lump in
your arms You get rid of it, just when you smashed
something. I know that you will sigh, when you open
your chest. But, I don't get the point.
These ropes were not torn and blood stained since the
beginning. First, everything was neat, just like my
own flesh. Like the cheers of audience. Oh, what a bad
smell. Then, it was easy to breath. Everybody was
coming for their own pleasure. But, now, it is
impossible to play that way. I cannot do anything in
other way. I have nothing to do. So, I should fight. I
am in the rings for just this reason, fight till the
end. And now, you have come along fresh and sane. You
are crisscrossing me round and zigzag. the audience
will remember you, for at least sometimes.
Your hands are fast and swift. If not, so I determine
by looking into your eyes that you are very young. You
are not in the same position and the same place, from
where you punched me. I realized that you are eager to
win and defeat me. Failing and defeat is very hard. It
is especially bitter for you. Oh, how young you are. I
will come to you, like a shadow. I will defeat you by
my heavy weight. By my body, why don't you fight. Now
is eleventh round. You are drowning in your sweat. My
open guard does not allow you to attack and fight. It
is just a simple act of boxing. You cannot think well.
You cannot operate your thoughts and learning. You are
coming in my hitting circle. You can fight. You can
dace. You can look at my eyes. Your boxing gloves are
like dragonfly. Look at my arms, heavy as lead. Like
two trunks of a tree. Spilt in two. My face is yours.
I shut my eyes. Just this and no more. But, I hold my
arms and hooks for the end. When you come here in my
arms reach. I will knock your head off. You are angry.
It is eighteenth round. You began to think about
defeat. You don't believe that you can beat me and
knock me down. My heavy body, full of muscles and fat.
My thick neck. You look. You punch me very nice and
fierce. You bit your lips. Your full lips. Also those
lips will kiss my boxing gloves. You have long lashes.
You don't bear defeat. This is not blood. Pouring on
my lips and chin. If it is, it will be easy. The Final
point is approaching. I hate it. It is pouring on my
lips. Beat till gloves clean it.
Which round is it? What does it mean? My face goes
numb. Maybe you are beating and punching with heavy
hooks. Round 23, 24, 25. I cannot walk. You are going
to see, what you have expected. Show off is over. You
have not been taught. You can swear. You can use bad
language. But, they are not to be blamed, you coaches,
I mean. I stand here forever. You never learn. For me,
defeat is nothing to consider. Winning and defeat is
the same for me. You may know that I am fighting with
open guards. I don't bother with issues out of these
rings. Now, you are in your open guards. You cannot
close it. Your lips and jaws are leaden. You feel it.
Just this and not contraction to your skin. Not even
the trembling lips. Now, you are imitating boxing. You
feel that ropes and shouts penetrate in your head.
Your skin is contracted. You are heavy, like a piece
of lead. You don't want to go forward. You won't stand
it anymore. Finished. I won't let you waiting more.
You are heavy and loaded like lead. You don't feel any
pain. The shout of audience is not heard. Everything
is crashed in your head. When you are knocked down,
the ring trembles. It is better. A melting wave surges
in your body. Pain. But, in fact, it is death and lie.
A few people came toward you. You are on the floor. I
go. I should go. I cannot stand to see my own heart
flattering on the ground.