Throughout Parris I am strolling, Vanja, dear! And what I notice, and what I hear - I’m jotting down in my diary this rubbish, When I get old - a book I’ll publish! In it I’ll say - they need us here in Paris As one should need a sawmill in the prairies! The emigrants produced the second generation, The way they speak is discombobulation! Around me with stupid questions they are hiving, Instaed of “Vanja” they’d call you “Ivan”! I must admit, they need us here in Paris As one should need another pit in cherries! With some French girl I’m having an affair, My friends are Jacque and Jean - terrific lads! I climbed the Tower of Eifel and from there I spat on the Parisians’ heedless heads! In it I’ll say - they need us here in Paris As one should need a sawmill in the prairies! To us the foreign world is getting closer, Our culture conquers it against all odds! In Paris, in a public water closet On walls there are some juicy Russian words! I must admit, they need us here in Paris As one should need a gun to gather berries!
© George Tokarev. Translation, 2002
Edited by Robert Titterton