She is blessed with her own place to live and the rest;
Not like me, in a small rented room at a widow’s.
I invest all the free time of which I’m possessed
In my quest just to gaze at her out of my window.

Every night till the small hours her windows stay bright;
I heard tell yesterday when I drank with the liftman
That she invites there a couple of film’s leading lights
And as well knows a popular Taganka thespian.

And in fact I’ve got contacts who service her flat
And they had lots of titbits to help analyse her:
They said that her big brother now plays for Spartak
And her dad is Garbuzov’s financial adviser.

I will claim that I never miss out on a game
At Spartak, where her brother, I’ll say, is a treasure;
And I’ll claim that Garbuzov and I’m on first names
And I act on the Arts Theatre stage just for pleasure.

And she grows, and she grows at her window geraniums in rows
And her curtains, her curtains are made in a pattern called "jacquard";
But heaven knows, at my window I’ve nothing to show
Only dust, only dust, only thick layers of dust on my cupboard.

But that’s okay, there is always the lottery to play
And I know that I won’t have too long left to stick it
For although life is still as unfair as they say
I will win a great big Volga car with my ticket.