to L. Luzhina
I probably have died; I’ll shut my eyes and see
I probably have died; I’m shy as shy can be
She’s a cut above me - she’s been to Paris
And yesterday I found - not only Paris...

What songs about the North I used to sing her
I thought - just a little more - and we’ll be using "ty"
But in vain the neutral line for this poor singer -
She didn’t give a damn about the flowers Id see.

And then I sang some more - closer may be -
"About the South" and "The One Once with Her"
Why should she care for me? She’s been to Paris
And you know Marcel Marceau - he’s spoken to her.

I gave up on my job - though there was no call for.
Devoured dictionaries with diligence and fear
Why should she care for that? She’s now in Warsaw
And separate languages again interfere.

When she comes back, I’ll say in Polish: "Pani,"
Accept me as I am, I won’t sing like before."
Why should she care for that? She’s off now in Iran
I just can’t keep up now any more,

Because she’s here today - tomorrow Oslo
Yes, I am in a mess, a real jam, no doubt.
I hose with her in past, and those who’ve yet to go.
Let them keep up - I’d rather sit it out!