Do not write about romance, I’m unshakable.
For I’m fed up to the brim with your history!
Better listen: poly-cotton available -
I can buy it, if you want, it looks silvery.

I’m not drinking vodka yet, not a single shot!
And I don’t buy any soup - strict economy,
for I love you very much, my dear simpleton,
cause I’m saving for a blouse of good quality!

I attended the ballet: guys are fondling gals.
All in slippers colored white, but are laudable.
I am writing this to you: tears are in my eyes, -
Do not let them palm your parts, my adorable!

Our Big Guy stands tall among the participants,
and at first they shouted that he had blemishes!
In the end, they overcame the predicament,
gave the prize and all the medals he cherishes!

Ask the manager for help with our premises:
Fix the roof and mow our grass, and immediately!
Or I won’t approach their heifers, I promise them,
they can spoil my record-breaker too easily!

Fend off Pashka at all costs - a fifth columnist!
When will they repair our barn, state farm scavengers?
Don’t go out with that jerk, the agronomist!
You can stroll a couple times with the manager.

Well, goodbye! I’m off to GUM to do purchases.
(GUM is like our village mart, but with many doors).
You can bore me with clothes, fur and furnaces,
with that washed-out dress of yours, a plain pinafore!

P.S.
There’s a public city park by the riverside.
There I walk and spit in urns - acts deliberate -
Things you don’t appreciate in your country side,
Standing by, behind the stove, my illiterate.