Not once Iíve met the bastards along the way, But one I remember very clear - He insidiously threw a handful of shag in my face, Knife into the belly and disappeared. Iím healthy, Iíve survived, the surgeon didnít believe Well, and I revived in him the faith, Even in America you wonít find hands like these - I didnít forget him. My dreams, I have put them aside, I waited to meet him and lived to see the payback. I didnít really threw the shag into his eyes, But later I had a cigarette. With pleasure Iíve never met, till today Outright bastards like these But now Iím satisfied: oh, how he lay, Amidst the firewood, and didnít breathe!
© Anatoli Trojanowski. Translation, 2018