Standard paintings were hanging on the restaurant’s walls:
The Three Bears1 and A Slain Russian Soldier2.
At the table a captain was sitting alone.
- Would you mind? - I have asked. - Please come join me.
Want to smoke? - I’m sorry, I don’t smoke this brand.
It’s o.k. Have a drink! Where’s your tumbler?
They’re still serving on me... - Drink! What I just have said!?
For your health! - I’ll be healthy regardless.
Well, I see now, - the captain said, visibly drunk,
You are skillful with vodka, no questions.
Have you seen machine guns or approaching tanks?
Have you rushed to attack from the trenches?
Forty third was a year when they sent me to Kursk3.
Just made sergeant, but Kursk was a torture!
I lived through quite a lot, quite a lot, lad, for you,
For your safety today and in future!
He was cussing my name, even brought up my dad4.
He was yelling at me over dishes:
“I gave all of my life for you rascal, and lad,
You just wasting your life, oh you’re filthy...”
“I would give you a rifle and send on the route!
Yet you’re drinking my vodka in comfort!”
I was hunkering down like in trenches of Kursk,
Where the captain was only a sergeant.
He and I were both getting progressively drunk.
At the end of our tough conversation,
I offended this captain with my last remark:
“You would not get a major promotion!”5