No, we couldn’t share you and couldn’t love you. What we felt is now firmly in the past. Your image in my soul is all I value, And Alex had your image tattooed on his chest. On that day, when we were parting at the station, I swore to love you till the day I die. And without even the slightest hesitation, Alex added promptly “So will I.” Now can you tell which one of us is tortured? And who’s misery is greater - you decide! On the outside he is scarred by your portrait. And my soul is scarred on the inside. So when I feel all bummed out and morose (Oh please don’t let these words offend your grace) I beg Alex to remove his clothes And I stare for hours at your face. But then another friend helped me prevail, Using art to put my woes to rest: He examined the tattoo in great detail And inked its perfect copy on my chest. Yes, with friends this subject is taboo. But I love you so much more because of this: My tattoo, that being your tattoo, Looks much better and much lovelier than his.
© Evgeny Sakirski. Translation, ?
© Vadim Astrakhan. Performance, ?