The punch! The punch! Again the punch!
One more punch! What the heck!
Boris Butkeyev (Krasnodar)
Is going to attack.

He shoved me in the corner,
I almost moved my head,
But he attacked - I’m on the floor,
And I am feeling bad.

And Butkeyev thought while hitting my gums:
It’s good to live, and life’s also good.

The count is "seven," I’m on the floor,
The countrymen are in tears.
I get up, dive, try to escape -
And points are going to me.

Isn’t it true, I’m saving my strength
Until the end of the game?
I’m not used to hitting people
Since childhood. What a shame!

But Butkeyev thought while crushing my ribs:
That it’s perfect to live, and life’s also good.

Whistles among the judges:
"Get him, he’s a coward!" No hopes.
Butkeyev goes into a close fight,
I’m pressing against the ropes.

But he got through, he’s Siberian,
They’re stubborn while they hit.
And I told him: "Listen, fool,
You’re tired, rest a bit."

But he didn’t listen, he breathed all the way:
It’s perfekt to live, and life’s also good.

And he’s beating out my brains!
The trouble is in sight.
Boxing is a sport for the valiant,
It isn’t just a fight.

He hit me once, twice, three times,
And lost all of his strength.
The referee raised my other arm,
With which I didn’t hit.

He lay on the floor, thinking life is so good.
To some it is good, but to some it is crude.