Not a jot of pain, not a spot of rain Had that year interfered with my life plans - But one day came my way a guy on a train; Let me tell you a bit about this man! He asked: "Youíre going far?" - "To Vologda." "Ah, to Vologda... Could be worse by far." Iíd packed vodka till my trunk nearly burst So I asked that guy, as you often do: "Shall we drink and see who gets drunk the first? And weíll get to know one another too!" And he said: "Weíll get out at Vologda, Ah, but Vologda is so very far!" Who got trashed the first is a blank to me; He kept filling my glass, he crawled and fawned. And my tongue grew loose, I was frank and free About people I scorned and those I mourned. I came round in the town they call Vologda, But to save my life I canít say which part. I was hauled in on charges trumped up from The criminal code, then they calmed me down Saying: "Things will work out before too long" - I was jailed before I could turn around. So I stayed in the town they call Vologda, Ah, but Vologda is so very far! Iíd been charged with Article Fifty-eight And they said: "Donít fret, think how young you are" - If Iíd known more about him, my drinking mate Would have never made it to Vologda. Now he lives his own life down in Vologda And Iím in the North and the Northís so far! Time has healed the hurt that I felt inside, But I live now as if I were wearing chains. So whatever it takes and do or die I must find that guy I met on a train. But he lives his own life down in Vologda And Iím in the North and the Northís so far!
© Margaret & Stas Porokhnya. Translation, 2008