Don’t send your little ones to the physics college,
New Newtons won’t appear any more.
There’s happed a slump in all the fields of knowledge:
The scientists haven’t ideas at all.

The mathematicians have progress, frankly saying,
But it’s unable to give rise to your smile.
This progress bears to the tests of games, and
They’ve made some progress in the errors line.

The mathematicians think only of computing

aberrations and wrongs,

The cyberneticists force the computers

to compose verse,

While the biologists attempt to grow

the test-tube protein,

And the philologists assay to know

what Blok’s parables mean...

Pythagoras was sure that any problem
Could be with logic theory made plain,
While so respected presently Niels Bohr said
That a true theory should be insane.

Thou, Bohr, one day shall answer for thy business!
Why hast thou called a scientist thyself?
So many youngsters lose the road listening
To those who’s made leaders of themselves!

The mathematicians think only of computing

aberrations and wrongs,

The cyberneticists force the computers

to compose verse,

While the biologists attempt to grow

the test-tube protein,

And the philologists assay to know

what Blok’s parables mean...

Heredity’s been owned by us since childhood,
And we feel hurt, that our chromosomes,
These precious, wondrous creatures, with no count,
Decease, to no good purpose, in retorts.

At present the biologists are mournful,
They’re outgalloped by the German ones:
While they can’t grow the protein till now,
Their rivals nurse the fetus in a glass.

The mathematicians think only of computing

aberrations and wrongs,

The cyberneticists force the computers

to compose verse,

While the biologists attempt to grow

the test-tube protein,

And the philologists assay to know

what Blok’s parables mean...