The cars are running, here is another rushed by us - All of them towards precise and ultimate aim, Perhaps, from the song of Ancharov - "MAZ"1, Loaded with Caspian herring. I wander the roads, like a beggar sack in the hand, Wisely all my kopeks saving And also wisely use up my strength, And in a quilt jacket muffle my scream. Where to am I and why? - one can live, if he knows it. And you can, without any straining To wake up and get up, if only I could sleep, And if not for a blizzard, then to sing.
1 MAZ - Minsk Automobile Plant.
Anatoli Trojanowski. Translation, 2018