Here Iím recognized by all. They stop by and sing and call, And they drink butalbital To my health. I donít like the public eye, All day long I sleep and lie. When they ask me, I reply: "Lack of strength." But they pester me at once: What has brought you here to us? You were always of high class and esteem! What am I supposed to tell? That I hit a wall and fell? That it was a phantom spell? Western schemes?
© Kirill Tolmachev. Translation, 2024