I think I bit the dust; I lost my pitch and vision; I think I bit the dust; I lost my nerve and sense. She’s much too good for me - She’d even been to Paris! - And other places too - it’s only commonsense. The songs I used to sing for her of Northern lights and snowstorms! I thought: a few more days and then, we’ll switch from "you" to "thou"! A wasted effort on my part - I brought her only boredom: She didn’t care for winter then, and doesn’t like it now. So then I sang of other things, of things she may hold dearer: Of Southern lands and Southern men who’ve been with her been before. Why should she care for me when she had been to Paris? Compared to suitors past, I must be quite a bore. My private life became a wreck, my workplace even more so I studied dusty grammar texts instead of writing songs. But what’s my pain to her? She’s now gone to Warsaw. And once again the two of us can’t find a common tongue. When she returns, I’ll bend my knee and plead with her in Polish: Accept me, pani, as I am - I love you more than song! She spares no thought for me - She’s on her way to Jordan It’s plain to me that our paths will never cross for long. Today she’s here with me; tomorrow she’ll be elsewhere; Yes, I am in a dreadful fix; yes, I am in a plight! The men who courted her before, perhaps they had the answer, Let others fret and sweat: I’d rather wait than fight.
© Anna Zaigraeva. Translation, 2004