Ice down below, ice up above - I freeze between. Drill through the bottom, or ram through the top? Thereís always hope - Iíll surface in the end, Then wait for visas, plugging at my job. Above me, ice will break up with a bang. Iím sweating like a ploughman and his horse. I shall return, like those ships in the song1, Remembering it all, even old verse. Iím half my age - a little way past forty. Iím living, thanks to God and you, my wife. I have a lot to sing to the Almighty. I have my songs to justify my life.
1 The reference is to "Ships".
© Sergei Roy. Translation, 1990