Throw some meat to the mongrels: Maybe they’ll start a scuffle. Pour some kvass to hung-overs: Something for them to guzzle. Put up scarecrows in numbers: Crows will not grow up stronger. And to make love for lovers Offer a private corner. Toss some seeds in the ground: Maybe there’ll be new seedlings. Right then, I’ll be compliant, But you must give me freedom! Meat scraps for dogs were offered, Yet they avoided fighting. Drunkards were offered vodka, But they refused it rightly. People chase off the corvids, Crows are as bold as ever. Couples are now divorcing Rather than be together. Water was poured in the furrow, There are no spikelets somehow. Yesterday they gave me freedom. What will I do with it now?
© Kirill Tolmachev. Translation, 2021