I’m fed up to the throat, up to the chin. Even songs are starting to make me tired. If only I could sink to the bottom, like a submarine, So nothing could get my bearings! My friend gave me a glass of vodka, And told me things would get better. My friend introduced me to Vera when I was drunk "Vera will help, and the vodka will save you." But neither Vera nor the vodka helped. The vodka gave me a hangover, and what was there to take from Vera? I’d like to sink to the bottom, like a submarine, And not send any messages! I’m fed up to the throat, up to the gullet, Oh! I’m sick of singing and playing. I’d like to sink to the bottom So nothing could get my bearings!
© Gerald Stanton Smith. Translation, 1984