A jab, a jab... Another jab... A body punch... and look! Boris Butkeev (Krasnodar) Now lands a perfect hook. He promptly cornered me once more: I barely escaped. An uppercut... Iím on the floor And feeling quite unwell! Butkeev was thinking, while crushing my jaws, That life canít be better, it has no flaws! A ref counts seven. I still lie, All my supporters pray. Iím getting up, I bob and dive, Iím scoring on the way. Itís just a lie that I save strength Before the final rounds. To hit a person in the face I canít on moral grounds. Butkeev was thinking, while crushing my ribs, That life canít be better, itís perfect indeed! And bleachers yell, and bleachers scream: ďA coward! Finish him!Ē Butkeev swarms, heís stepping in, And on the ropes I lean. But he came through. Persistent chap, Siberian1 by birth. I said to him: ďWill you relax? Youíre running out of breath!Ē But he would not listen, he only exhales: That life canít be better, and it never fails! But he still hits: a hulk of sort, A problem on my hands. Well, boxingís not a fight, but [a] sport Of fearless, valiant men. He punched me once, he punched again, And... to the floor he slips. A referee then raised my arm Which landed zero hits. Heís lying and thinking that life is quite good, For someone itís good, but for others itís rude!
1 The city of Krasnodar in not located in Siberia. Another joke by Vysotsky.
 
© Kirill Tolmachev. Translation, 2021