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 - Iím on the floor, And I am feeling bad. And Butkeyev thought while hitting my gums: Itís good to live, and lifeís also good. The count is "seven," Iím on the floor, The countrymen are in tears. I get up, dive, try to escape - And points are going to me. Isnít it true, Iím saving my strength Until the end of the game? Iím not used to hitting people Since childhood. What a shame! But Butkeyev thought while crushing my ribs: That itís perfect to live, and lifeís also good. Whistles among the judges: "Get him, heís a coward!" No hopes. Butkeyev goes into a close fight, Iím pressing against the ropes. But he got through, heís Siberian, Theyíre stubborn while they hit. And I told him: "Listen, fool, Youíre tired, rest a bit." But he didnít listen, he breathed all the way: Itís perfekt to live, and lifeís also good. And heís beating out my brains! The trouble is in sight. Boxing is a sport for the valiant, It isnít 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 didnít hit. He lay on the floor, thinking life is so good. To some it is good, but to some it is crude.
© Nathan Mer. Translation, 1991