In some bad locality, In a wicked community, Lived a lad unhappily, Stung by thorns innumerous. He scooped up the offence, the offence Quickly by a handful. And the grief that he then felt, Never was more painful. Drink this poison with no measure! For today itís free to sip, free to sip. Any rope canít spin forever, For it spins into a whip! Poverty, necessity Drives away a commoner. Life flows imperceptibly, Like a silky gossamer. Those that have been easily swayed, led astray, To the dicey crossroads, They were drifted right away To the prison strongholds. Thoughts of mercy should be severed: You have teeth to grit and gnash! Any rope canít spin forever, For it spins into a lash! Oh, my dashing countryside, You I prowled in misery. Scaffold is your only pride, Plus, a rope thatís slithery. And the hanged soon learn the Satanís devil flame - Their bare heels heís licking. Itís both laughter and a shame: Canít endure the living! Cry not, weep not, joke as ever: Tears will give you no support. Any rope canít spin forever, For it gets cut always short! Midnight thoughts are murkiest. Builders work with energy. Hanging timeís the earliest: You will miss the liturgy. Donít regret, itís all for naught, all for naught! You donít need postponement! Since your ropeís without a knot, Slips at any moment! Waiting for your last endeavor, Try to settle for a snooze. Any rope canít spin forever, For it spins into a noose!
© Kirill Tolmachev. Translation, 2022