A blow, a blow... another blow...
Again a blow - and see
Boris Butkeyev (Krasnodar)
Carried out an uppercut.

There he pressed me into the corner,
Where I scarcely missed being hit,
See an uppercut - I am on the floor,
I am not feeling well.

I thought Butkeyev smashed my jaw:
And life is good, and life is good!

At the counting to "seven" I’m still lying -
My countrymen sob.
I stand up, dive, stretch -
And I get points.

Thats’s not true, it seems like I am
Keeping my strength back till the end, -
To beat a man into the face
I couldn’t do since childhood.

I thought Butkeyev smashed my ribs:
And life is good, and life is good!

On the tribune they whistle, on the tribune they howl:
"Get at him, he is a coward!"
Butkeyev forced me to a close combat -
And I pressed against the ropes.

But he cucceeded - he is a Sibirian,
They are persistent,
And I told him: "Freak!
You are tired however - get a rest!"

But he did not listen - he breathed,
That to live is good, that life is good.

And he beat on and on - healthy devil! -
I see: there will be a calamity.
Boxing nevertheless is not a row, it’s a sport
For the courageous and so on.

He hit again, twice, thrice -
I... am lacking in strength,
The referee raised my hand,
With which I did not beat.

He lay and thought - that life is good.
For some it is good, and for some - damn all.