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: "You’re going far?" - "To Vologda." "Ah, to Vologda... Could be worse by far." I’d 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 we’ll get to know one another too!" And he said: "We’ll 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 can’t 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! I’d been charged with Article Fifty-eight And they said: "Don’t fret, think how young you are" - If I’d known more about him, my drinking mate Would have never made it to Vologda. Now he lives his own life down in Vologda And I’m in the North and the North’s 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 I’m in the North and the North’s so far!
© Margaret & Stas Porokhnya. Translation, 2008