(I hope I devised it by myself)

 

It was my frivolous translation of Vertinskiy's lines,

here are another (my) version:

 * * *

Love is the deceitful game,

Where stakes are so high,

But the profit is so poky.

When your partners

are the sharpers,

But the quit still lingers murky. 

* * *

There was an Internet

And I had Romantic stories.

All "for free" for me so long ..

But they were only follies.

 

Should I pay for all I have?

(Access, girls, and things, I care?)

Fairy woods forever left.

Now they are asking fare.

 

 ***

One day in Paradise

The line, which I thought

It should be vaporized

Until someone is shot.

 

***

"Tomber lya neasure"

Frenchman would say.

Oh! So much pleasure,

Sounds like so gay!

 

"Tomber lya neasure"

(It stands for a "snow"),

"Tomber lya neasure"

You will never know.

 

"Tomber lya neasure"

Snowflakes in vain.

We had so pleasure.

I have such pain.

***

Irreconcilable with life

Irreconcilable with love

Is there a sense in it?

Someone has fun

Someone could laugh

But I have a sore wit.

 

(27.May.99)

***

All I need is job and girl

Job - to earn

And girl - to waste

Summer came

And spring is gone

Fear is goading me in haste.

 ***

< From time to time I scribble some line in girl's g-books, This is an example. (***** stands for my real name) >

Kristie reminding me jewelry

(Kristie reminding you what?)

Even in your future revelry

Will you remember or not?

Will you remember these lines?

Will you remember this day?

Will you remember that fellow

Named so funny - ****ey?

***

Are we worse than loony ducks?

Having gifts of many kinds

Can we make a pots of bucks

Using only own minds

And avoid crooked trucks

Not pretending be a saints?

***

<Only extremely lazy fellow can write so shorty lines >

summer,

s-u-m-m-e-r

- sweet downy mew,

girl's naked cold heels

romping in dew.

 

26 in 26 in chair near pond

Today I moved armchair

To sit on beach of my own.

My conscience should be fair

But people saw my frown.

I shouldn't have a reason

To ruffle clear mind

And any neighbor peasant

Knew that this pond is mine.

I read Wodehouse there

Enjoying sunset's flame

With thoughts so full of care

- My comfort was my shame.

And I was apt to feeling

My propriety brought blame

But argued with believing

- They could dig out the same.

They saw in it a grass

For cows of theirs own

I wasn't saw pragmatic

- I saw just pretty lawn.

You shouldn't have a bond

To dig a little pond.

And it's no ground to waste

Until you have a taste.

All this I tried as shield

Sitting on grass of my field.

"Pity" - the word for these peasants

Fence was designed to shelve.

But by inscrutable reason

"Pity" - I felt for myself.

 ***

I write these lines to Stephanie

(These are not even a lines)

Please don't consider them blasphemy

I write not sense but for rhythms.

 

I saw some lines on your pages

Lines which so chime with my heart

"Have no responses for ages"

(Do you consider me smart?)

 

Also I saw in "confessions"

"Don't have offence"

(You are witness)

Nothing offends me in this world

Nothing - except unrequitness.

***

I don't believe in anything

No dazzling future left

With strings too loosened to sing

Without bridge through cleft.

 

I don't believe but something

Still lingers in my soul

Just childish cussed gleam within

Which keeps me out of fall

***

I am not Tennyson

(And Tennyson was wrong)

Isn't it a starting

For a Holy song?

***

Girl to talk

Girl to sleep

Girl to walk

Girl to skip

***

I have some foulest questions

(Continuously trying to wage it)

But happiness! - there are persons

Who let open mind be forgiven!

My question -

"Are you still engaged?"

Her answer -

"But I have no children".

 

In manor-house

It was here I had inspirations

Simple rustic and healthy life

Waiting dawns, having no publications

Waiting dawns and waking at five.

 

 Anola Gay

We will celebrate two milleniums

Since world saw the Man, head in thorn

But does anyone know these craniums

In which evil phrase was created:

"The child satisfactory born"?

 

But, please, don't consider him human

It has not a grave or no tomb

This message was craved by Truman

He born not a child but a bomb!

 ***

They soar over Russian

Dales, valleys, countryside

I'm hiding head in cushion

But they are still beside.

They soar over Russia

Distasteful gangster's songs

They scourge, mangle, rush in

Their singers flood in throngs.

They are as sore as tumor

Not bringing even rhyme

No sense, no good, no humor

With which my heart would chime.

 

** Two sisters**

It was long

(It was eight years ago)

She was eighteen

Her sister was seven

We had way

We had long way to go

Hopes high

Sparkling future, (we hoped),

was waiting.

 

But times fly

(Newer asking me why)

I was blind

Who just tried to grope it.

We skipped eight years

She's now a wife.

Let us say that I was like a wind

- Toyed future - and at soon I dropped.

 

Meeting her I would eager to ask

"What is life?"

(And my own outlook is sinister)

And I met her

My passion anew all alive.

Was it she?

No - it was her young sister.

 

It was long

It was long, long ago

I was eighteen

And she was just seven

We had way

We had long way to go

And my dreams still with her

And still higher than heaven.

 

****

/Following lines written after listening Tovarishestvo Acterov i Muzikantov, (T.A.M.) "Beliy Tarakan"/

White cockroach roams on the wall

He doesn't know the life

So nor I at all.

***

/Following lines written after listening Splin "Bog ustal nas lubit"/

That one who was crucified

Making not any much fuss

God

But and He became tired

Giving so much love to us.

 

***

/Following lines is the translation of Russian lines: "Molchi, skrivaysya i tai vse misli i mechti svoi"./

Just keep silence, -

Try to hide

All your hopes, ideals, pride.

***

(29.Dec.99)

The end of millenium is weighing on me

Beginning is easy

It will make me free.

The weigh as a volume of so many pages

We thought we have read this

But we have Middle Ages.

We, curious people, like carols to hum

As if we are sure tomorrow will come.

***

/written after song "Pelmennaya", (ravioli-house), of Krupnov. 8.jan.00/

Everyone of us is dreaming

He is only lord of stars

Keeping Galaxies rotating

Having drinks in stuffy bars.

***

(Written after reading "I'm the Walking Dude" note by Hexacorde).

Slipping over my skin in streams of blue,

wisping memories came to the surface

from my inner eternally boiling brew

winning over and over the crucial office.

 

Cold winds that slow my steps these days.

Cold feet when I seeing the dawn which is grey.

 

Hounds of wind, will you wail over us?

Or make a change for a bark?

Where my days and where my path

Why should I lurk in the dark?

 

 

I often had only one question

What sense do we have from a peach?

And now I've come to conclusion

The thing is just barely out of reach,

So - stop idle talk and confusion

 

 

I pressed the key and I entered

But was it an Enter or real Return?

But then I at last get relaxed

(Full Translation of  "Beliy Tarakan" (White Cockroach) by Tovarishestvo Acterov i Muzikantov, (T.A.M.))

Where are you, my friend?

Shadows fade away.

I can’t grasp the night.

I can’t grasp the day.

 

Yellow submarine

Roams in my bath

Life is sad for it

Life is sad for us.

 

Graying under dust

Portrait on the wall

Never minding life

Nor am I at all.

 

Where are you, my friend?

Fortune’s broken wheel

Just forgot its trend.

We have no the will.

 

Broken wheel of time

Sweeping far away.

Yellow submarine,

Yellow autumn day.

 

Other few lines from song "Ot Vinta" by Paperny T.A.M.

" On the river on the sunrise

From the mountain from the wood

On the fastest scooter drives

For the business Robin Hood

 

Hey come on!

Hey come on! "

 

 

Vishnevsky Lyrics

You want to praise me?

Return