I never believed in mirages,
Nor packed my suitcase for the coming paradise.
A sea of lies devoured my teachers
And cast them out beside Magadan1.
But staring at ignoramuses from above,
I differed from them very little:
Budapest left no splinters
And Prague did not explode my heart.
And we caused a stir in life and on the stage:
- We’re still muddleheaded little boys!
But soon they’ll notice and appraise us.
Hey! Who’s against? We’ll give him a thrashing!
But we knew how to sense danger
Long before the beginning of the cold.
With the shamelessness of a tart, clarity came
And bolted up our souls.
And though the executions didn’t touch us.
We lived, not daring to raise our eyes.
We arc also children of Russia’s terrible years -
In us the stagnant hard time poured its vodka.