She is blessed with her own place to live and the rest; Not like me, in a small rented room at a widowís. I invest all the free time of which Iím possessed In my quest just to gaze at her out of my window. Every night till the small hours her windows stay bright; I heard tell yesterday when I drank with the liftman That she invites there a couple of filmís leading lights And as well knows a popular Taganka thespian. And in fact Iíve got contacts who service her flat And they had lots of titbits to help analyse her: They said that her big brother now plays for Spartak And her dad is Garbuzovís financial adviser. I will claim that I never miss out on a game At Spartak, where her brother, Iíll say, is a treasure; And Iíll claim that Garbuzov and Iím on first names And I act on the Arts Theatre stage just for pleasure. And she grows, and she grows at her window geraniums in rows And her curtains, her curtains are made in a pattern called "jacquard"; But heaven knows, at my window Iíve nothing to show Only dust, only dust, only thick layers of dust on my cupboard.
But thatís okay, there is always the lottery to play And I know that I wonít have too long left to stick it For although life is still as unfair as they say I will win a great big Volga car with my ticket.
© Margaret & Stas Porokhnya. Translation, 2007