When fame became impossible to bear He hid away in Maine or Delaware, Or, maybe, in another rustic state. He was that 007 agent, James Bond, a spy, a living movie legend, Which only Hollywood was able to create! The guy was so renowned, He simply had no match. With fame and glory crowned - It often made him retch! A demigod! It’s funny, But here I’ll speak up - Marcello Mastroiani Against him was a pup! Avoiding fans, he sat inside his villa, (A loving mob, he knew, could be a killer!) Though it’s dead boring being a recluse... But none would jump on you with hugs and cheers And no one would tear for souvenirs Your pants and shirts and even old shoes! But in the movies never His actor’s fire cooled - Intelligences ever By him were stuffed and fooled. He walked in skins and even In ashtrays often slept, Seducing lots of women, And never getting trapped! One day a famous Russian film director Invited this extraordinary actor Into the film he was about to start. Reluctant to be met by shrieking crowds, James Bond put on some dirty woolen shrouds - Fans all the same would tear them apart! When he was leaving there, The fans besieged the plane. Each hippie with long hair Shaved off his dirty mane. Bond’s watch and even mantle Were gone on the attack, And later fans dismantled That concrete runway track! In Moscow, hiding face behind the collar, He tipped a porter with a crumpled dollar - His advent was quite calm and noiseless too... Then from a battered car a man appeared, Film in his hand, he waved to Bond: “Come here! Hey, nice to meet you, how do you do!” A giant mob was waiting Along the entrance ramp, But just anticipating The greatest shooting champ. His records were amazing, He never missed a shot! He drove women crazy, Men also raved a lot! So glad he wasn’t torn apart by crowds, He took off in the Grand Hotel his shrouds, But there Bond was called a reeking tramp, Despite his person and despite his accent... And - “officer, he said that he’s an agent And said he is a foreigner, this scamp!” “So, who are you, by heaven?” - I pushed him to the wall. “I’m 007!” - “You want to make a call?!” And gasping with dishonor, Upset and helpless, then Sat down in the corner A former superman. At last some movie men appeared there, And he was treated with respect and care, And they exchanged the money that he had. The chambermaid was grunting, sharp and trenchant: “Big deal! Some silly hillibilly agent, In number ten we’ve got a Prince from Chad!”
© George Tokarev. Translation, 2001
Edited by Robert Titterton