There was a time - I rushed in to the first row,
And this is all from misunderstanding, -
But for some time now I’m sitting at the back:
There, upfront, like a machine gun stuck in to your neck, -
Hard look, unkind breathing.

And maybe, at the back is not so nice,
But - much wider outlook,
Much bigger run up and perspective
And also - reliability and overview.

The eyes barrels - up to ten -
Like the muzzles on he target, but the one that’s live, -
I can not save back of my head from gazes,
And from behind, it’s so easy to inflict
Insult or wound with a knife.

And maybe, at the back is not so nice,
But - much wider outlook,
Much bigger run up and perspective
And also - reliability and overview.

The first row is harmful for me, and they say -
From those thoughts I’m setting myself for a bad fall.
It’s better - where is darker - in the last row:
From here there is no other way,
And behind the back standing wall after wall.

And maybe, at the back is not so nice,
But - much wider outlook,
Much bigger run up and perspective
And also - reliability and overview.

And even though the rivers of water away will flow,
And though the down quilts will be completely filthy, -
Till boldness, till the grey hair, till the beard
Don’t end up in the first row
And don’t aspire to be the prima - ballerina.

And maybe, at the back is not so nice,
But - much wider outlook,
Much bigger run up and perspective
And also - reliability and overview.

It’s save at the back, but there are days -
I’m telling myself, that I will enter with a suit of hearts:
It’s not worse it to be always in the shadow -
Don’t stay too long in the last row,
And gradually move into the first.

And maybe, at the back is not so nice,
But - much wider outlook,
Much bigger run up and perspective
And also - reliability and overview.