| George Tokarev. Translation, 2001 Edited by Robert Titterton My, that house where I was - I can't find it again, I recall just wallpaper with flowers; I recall Kate was there with her friend, Ann or Jane - One of them I would kiss in the shower. When I woke next day From the hostess I heard That last night I would say But a four-letter word, That I skipped like a deer, Shrieking songs, wild and queer, And I bet that my dad Had been ranked brigadier! Then I'd tear my shirt, hit myself in the breast, And before other guests I was posturing, And I called them the traitors, and gave them no rest, With my drunk chords the guests I was torturing. After seven highballs I abstained for a while, But, instead, on the walls Started pouring red wine; I got hold of a bat - Crystal glasses I smashed, Then a nice coffee set I threw out in the trash. They were frightened at first, keeping mum, silly bums, But at last 'twas beyond their bearing - Knocked me down and then with the cord tied my arms After that they became very daring. Blows were rather thick, But to worsen the case One smart dancer would kick At my belly and face... But then suddenly came A young widow there Stopping that bloody game, Saving me from a tear. So they left me alone, bleeding there on the floor, And I wheezed out: "People, I'll cut this trick! Let me go, untie me, I'll drink no more!" They untied me, but hid all the cutlery. After I broke free Sure, my promise I broke, And I paid them their fee With a finishing ... |
