Yes, today I am on a roll, no two ways about it -
The Moscow crowd is bursting with delight, -
I calmly intercept the passess
And sweep up the dead balls.

Now the referee assigns a penalty to the other side -
The reporters are swarming in a cloud at those gates.
Only one is determined to be bored behind my back -
He will rest superbly today!

Sorry,
now they’re heading them to me...
I make contact -
they pass with a corner kick.
The number ten takes it - it’s a chance for him
to break the zero draw
by a “dry leaf” of his own.

The ball is in my hands - the stands are going mad, -
Only the number ten neatly swerved.
Such things have not happened to me for a long time! ...
Only behind someone quietly suddenly sighed.

I turned round - I hear a voice behind the cameras:
“Sorry, my friend, but you’ve ruined my shot.
What is it to you - what a pointless time to put your hands to the ball -
But I would have captured a fine goal”.

I wanted to tell him where to go -
that’s not how it went:
I barely managed
to catch the ball.
Then I’d only just managed to pick myself up,
When I hear once more “Not again!
If you catch and stop them all - I won’t get even one!”

“My dear comrade, I understand all that,
But I ask you in a civilized manner: just leave me alone!
Yes, it would suit you better if I played worse
But trust me - It’s not in my power to help you”.

Now the number ten lets fly like a cannon -
The reporter babbles: “Listen, let him score!
I’ll film your whole family for nothing for life...”
The guy is almost crying. What am I to do?

“That’s football”,
I say,
“Every goal’s a knife
Through a goalkeeper’s heart”.
“Let me make a gift to you as goalkeeper
Of my best shot -
Miss, and I’ll bless you!”

I bend like a twig before the pressure of the reporter.
Hesitantly I step up to intercept...
Under my breath, I beg my team-mates
To smash his camera for him.

But on he whimpers, “My friend, this is inhumane -
Of course you could take2 this one, but, if you’ll forgive me,
It’s just a moment, but a photograph is eternal.
Please, not a single move, tear yourself away!”

Number five at twenty two3
Is famous.
He isn’t running, barely even
Tripping along.
Into the right-hand corner4, the ball, ringing -
That is, on my left -
Makes landfall and impudently lies there.

In this half, we were playing against the wind,
So that I couldn’t bring anything off...
I’ve got a snap at home - two by three metres -
As a witness to my shame.

I curse the moment when I obliged the photographer,
You see now I think, when I stop the balls,
How many beautiful photos have been ruined by me!
Shame racks me, even cries.

Tempter-serpent, executioner!
How am I to live?!
As every ball tugs
To be let through.
I struggle with myself every match
It’s clear this is my fate...
Hold on, here comes a corner.