Oh, where do I get my rude manners from?! Just live like I lived for a while, feel what I felt... With a silver spoon, thanks to my mother, I was born, My sugar shirt was pulled up with a red belt. Where does my frown brow come from? From what such reasons are gray curls on the head? Thanks to my father, like a bull, I am strong And he put in my head something you canít sneeze at. I began my washing from the Sandunovsky baths, - Together with sweat, I drove out evil back to hell. Iím ready - educated and clean as polished brass, Then I should have a voice as pure as a silver bell. I would sing clearly then, I would sing about shawls, I would sing about important thing, itís my choce, Everyone would welcome me, everyone would forgive my falls, But unfortunately, God did not give me a voice! But I want to sing something, at least about shawls, please, Yes, at least about the most important thing! And I screamed with a wheeze - people did not breathe, And no one really, not a single person winced. From whom is such a dream, and lies and harassment! I always had in mind the men, not ladies. But you listened to me with bated breath and with full intent, And now youíre begging, - only I wonít give. There was a servant of God, carried his cross, the slave had lice, They got scared of the lice and cut off his head. Then they cried and left with nothing, despite the sacrifice, To kick the kids and push them out, they didnít forget.
© Anatoli Trojanowski. Translation, 2023