No, nobody here buys any food now
We’re all holding tightly to our dough.
Cholera is scything down the ranks, now
But the people stand firmly in a row.

The mountains are blocked and Aeroflot’s in debt
In Astrakhan, those melons burn in vain
But the worker will not lay down his tools yet
And, yes, the bonds of health will grow again.

Loss is endured all across our homeland
But there is faith, the faith is firm -
A fight to the death is now at hand
To beat cholera, the miserable little germ.

On labour watch, the people rose against you,
In tribute to the battle on disease.
No pasaran! Cholera shall never pass through!
Cholera - your ball is over! That’s it, please!

She can never pass - she does not dare
Break through a picket thousands strong -
I met her, pale as death, somewhere,
A frail skeleton column, thousands long.

Yesterday, I dealt the Queen of clubs out,
And said "You’re a joke, you, cholera!"
Yes, I’ve got you, cholera, I call your bluff out,
No, you’re nothing but a chimera.

And now my mind is settled and less vague
I feel myself like Gulliver alone
And I’ve understood: cholera is no plague -
And everyone has a cholera of his own!

I’m certain: the cholera will burn out soon.
And now - a volley of a thousand guns!
Forward! Cholera will be out of tune.
Choleric people are the liberated ones.