Here is the English translation of the profound philosophical text, preserving its core metaphors, rhythm, and critical message as much as possible:
**Dream.**
Awareness and understanding of One.
That the universe, if anything.
From small to great, within humanity.
Within the very image of man is hidden.
Enough to open it, to,
Turn death back upon itself.
And should a person, humanity,
Having realized, understand, accept, then they will have,
Nothing more to fight for.
Playing with death themselves, waging war.
And all material goods.
Will become for them a means,
Economic, or financial,
Trade-related, or market-based.
Simply building material.
Where the Empire of Peace, of life, is built.
Not of delusions and faith in the idol of accumulation,
Of energy-intensive accumulator-like,
Self-enclosed self-significance.
Of financial investment development,
For gold-mining exaggeration.
In warehouses and banks, accounts and numbers,
In games bound by exchanges, or casinos.
No difference to the accumulator,
Without a network, if anything.
Precisely this multiplication,
Of ownerless production,
Generates death itself.
You wouldn't build.
A hydroelectric station, for storage.
Of this multiplied product.
For an independent accumulator.
A hydroelectric station is alive,
There is movement there,
And energy in networks for society.
Natural multiplication.
The accumulator turns on only when.
Repairs are underway, or a stoppage.
For expanding a unit,
A turbine or a wheel.
That is, finance is not the blood of the economy.
It is a simulacrum of matter, in the name of the material, in one direction or another.
Mass movement without an engine.
Which generates the life it has taken.
In the form of energy for force majeure,
For the game of golden multiplication.
It washes away beyond separation,
And self-liberating proclamation,
Of independence from the network,
It begins as death for slaughter,
As suicide in the name of life.
Until the next outlet.
To go with its own fork.
Its water hammer and torn shaft.
Destroy it like a hydro station.
And the design of this stupidity.
Reveals itself through this movement to all.
Because man.
Forgets about the engine because of the accumulator.
Or builds and maintains it.
Multiplying power,
Like a samovar procuring.
From nuclear fusion,
Through fission.
New energy, living force.
As life thinks about life.
Not that which, in a nuclear explosion,
Destroys matter with fire
And temperature.
Radiation consumes everything afterward.
Thus the dream melts away.
But that which is only under control.
In peaceful purposes, the world procures.
And equally, in the balance of awareness.
Distributes across society.
Society values this.
It no longer believes,
As in an idol, in accumulators
Without an engine.
Nor in the gold standard.
Money and its benefits.
Are not the creator.
They are an accumulator, not a producer.
Of the gold standard of world development.
It's all dead, for the life-thinker.
For the cunning conqueror.
For he, like an accumulator,
Accumulates everything in his warehouses.
And launches it all.
Against the world and life.
To be, without an engine.
With its fork, in the form of a fork,
To equate itself with Poseidon.
To destroy that engine.
This accumulator in human thought.
Inhumanity, and all vices.
Which serve sin.
In the name of death, and denial.
Of the perpetual engine within humanity.
In eternal reproduction.
And not an idiot with a fork,
Finite in search of an outlet.
"Drown your iPhones with firewood,"
Said Andrey.
Who is with you.
Vice needs.
Man to be.
An accumulator of death.
Cold-blooded, finite.
Man.
You wouldn't.
Exchange your organs of sense.
For a game of candy wrappers.
Perhaps it's time to see clearly.
That you are the universe.
In the macro future, a micro core.
Which, as it develops,
Becomes macro for micro growth,
As an example, not an idol with a fork.
At the bottom of the sea, whole.
Of all living existence.
Just like yours,
And not yours,
Child, offspring.
Vice will.
Reason like a financier.
Saying capital is not an accumulator.
It's the blood of the system,
Which finances, stimulating.
Brain microcircuits.
It's not a means, a fork,
It's capital and a fork.
For plus and minus.
A multiplied goal.
Simply faith from non-faiths.
A new religion.
With the old effect.
"I'm whole at the bottom like an anchor."
Through wars for resources,
In the name of accumulator art.
We accumulate, we don't steal.
Thus we accidentally produce, triumph.
Collecting without risking anything.
The WTO will help, the UN can.
We gather thread by thread,
We knit illusions, nets,
In the name of a new thread.
About how the bank, an accumulator.
Is a culture separate from society.
Its religion the golden calf,
And its developing gold coin, musculature.
Everyone prays to it.
But it, like a brainless coin,
Grows smarter in thought, like AI,
Becomes fresher, its understanding,
It will explain to you,
What the truth of dreams, desire is.
Closed off without wires,
Like a star of reason,
In the universe unto itself.
No one will simply,
Like the sun to leaves.
Give not a single,
Bright ray.
For it is not an outlet.
It points accurately with a fork.
Dark matter,
And its gravitation.
Is absorbed into a funnel,
Of this game, a new dance,
And an old variation.
Into a black hole, plays
Like a dream, humanity,
In the name of humanity! Multinational,
Polyphonic nation.
Goes there, where is built,
From it, animation, without resuscitation.
So here on planet Earth.
Something similar is happening.
When thoughts of this kind,
About the world in society,
Roam in the image of mortal sins.
Atlantis at the bottom of the sea.
Like Atlas spreading his shoulders for the quarry
With buckets,
Unfurls the golden dome.
And will rule with lithium batteries.
To whatever social,
Underdeveloped model it hooks itself.
And through debts, via credit,
Micro-financial feats.
Through superstition on trust,
With a resource base as an accumulator,
With its fork,
In the name of an outlet,
Through stupidity and theft,
Recharge again.
These accumulator batteries walk the world.
And proclaim through illusions about their,
Truly primordial power.
Past and future,
In this theoretical model,
Are simply not needed.
For this game,
Any law of being.
Like the non-accidental creation of the world.
Will be simply boring.
There exists conscience and morality.
Which hinder the player,
The unstrengthened present mind,
From simply not thinking,
Not thinking in theories of random,
Economic explosions, revolutions,
World wars, as parts,
Of occurred misfortune.
Universal in scale,
From nothing, bad weather.
As in the accidental,
Creation of the universe,
Godless present,
To believe in accumulation.
In oneself with a fork.
Reverse thought, not joking.
A person pedals.
They didn't give him enough energy,
The generator spins.
Energy is produced.
And it goes into the battery.
Which is brainless.
All this from everyone,
Dynamics like a counter-
Mausoleum for a death monument,
Preaches life to it.
That it is its strength,
Preaching to the goal.
And he pedals and believes.
That it warms him with food,
And a free home.
Humanity in this model resembles.
Such an art object.
An accumulator was attached to a person.
It is independent of his movement.
It speaks and proclaims.
All human movements.
And the person believes this inhuman,
Sometimes terrifying ideology,
Like a child.
He is like a social turbine.
Like a raging river.
Beating against the dam.
Feeds and saturates to excess that.
Which, in symbiosis,
Is incapable of giving back.
If not directly connected.
At the right moment.
As an accumulator of ideas.
Only there are no ideas there.
There is only enmity.
Over what was pressed.
Simply, without trial.
Accidentally without desperately!
Everything is divided into three models.
One accumulates, the second extracts,
From the third, who by the gift of labor.
Like the sun, water, and wind,
On the planet, as humane, procures.
An independent battery, bank.
Denying its dependence,
On the generator and natural force,
Plays a dynamic and its.
Empty, random,
Directly dependent on society.
With the reverse effect.
Life's sadly illusory,
Records of force on accounts.
Very convenient,
For these accumulators.
Of financial ideology.
To deny all that is bright and spiritual.
To accidentally, from nothing.
Through play with society.
Like a parasite of the game,
In its game, manage the mass of stupidity.
The USA is an accumulator, a dynamic.
China is a generator of technologies, ideas.
Russia is the elements, river and nature,
Divine force.
The accumulator