And this was a clear Sunday afternoon, and I didnít mug people. Sunday is my day off-thatís my slogan all the time. All of a sudden I hear a whistle, I am being grabbed by police, And one recognizes me and yells: "Recidivist!" "Give it up, comrade. Donít bother. My last name is Sergeyev. And I have no idea who the recidivist might be". It was a Sunday afternoon, but the cops never have a day off. They also have a plan. Believe it or not. And if theyíll overdo the plan, theyíll be rewarded With a ton of gold - for busting the thief-recidivist. Showing the respect to me: "Sit down. Have a cigarette, comrade. So, you are that recidivist... Sign under the protocol". It was a Sunday afternoon, the sun was shining. And the people - some with family, some with friends. But I sat here like in the most disgusting Monday - The major seemed to be a hard working man. "How many times were you tried?" "Sorry, I donít know how to count." "So you are that recidivist?" "No, comrade, Iím Sergeyev". It was a Sunday afternoon, and I was sweating like crazy, But the major seemed to excel in math. First he added, then subtracted, then divided something, And then said that I was tried ten times. And the chief handed me a list, told me to sign it, So I wrote: "The recidivist by the name of Sergeyev". It was a Sunday afternoon, I was tired and beaten, But I know one thing, for which I am happy and glad: I have contributed my very modest contribution Into the seven-year plan for catching all the thieves.
© Nathan Mer. Translation, 1991