Once upon a time in a cold, dark land, since the day when he was born, All his life a poor, poor lad walked barefoot on the thorns, the thorns. Life of endless scorn he lived, more than he could bear. As for the grief that he received - nothing can compare! Drink the poison till you drown! Good thing you wonít have to leave no tip! The ropeís twisting, twisting down: it will tie into a whip! Loser walks around the world, his misfortune calling. Life, it seems to pass him by, between his fingers rolling. As for those walking ice so thin, their road is seasoned! They are dragged by wicked winds to the chains and prisons! And no mercy here is shown! Tortures ripping off your flesh, your flesh! The ropeís twisting, twisting down: it will tie into a lash! Ah, through this strange land I stride... Entering, abandon hope! Gallows Field is this landís pride and the soapy rope. And the Satan, Devil-in-Chief, laughs at people swinging! Mother, why this endless grief? No life for the living! But donít you cry and donít howl! They wonít pardon you for tears, no way. The ropeís twisting, twisting down: they will cut it off one day! Thinking bitter thoughts tonight... Gallows waiting for me! Cannot even have last rites: hanging starts too early. Missed the prayer? No regret, no regret! What am I delaying? And the rope that I get has no knots, theyíre saying! So rest, ye, heaven-bound! Until dawn youíre free to snooze! The ropeís twisting, twisting down: it will tie into a noose!
© Vadim Astrakhan. Translation, 2007
© Vadim Astrakhan. Performance, 2007