No stories thrill us, neither verse nor prose, We know all and everything weíve seen... The only worthy book is, I suppose, The book of Code. Criminal, I mean. When from hangover my head is to explode, Or when from restlessness I go round the bend - At any page I open this Code And keep on reading till the very end! Iíve always left my friends a wide discretion, And they prefer to rob, I know my men! Thatís what the article assigns for this transgression: No less than three and no more than ten. Just think about these lines, so plain and clear, They tell us more than any author writes! Behind these lines there is a world of fear, Of morbid barracks, cards and bloody fights! With broken fates these simple lines are breathing, With those lines Iíd rather have no truck, Boy, am I glad when articles are easy - Some buddies will receive a piece of luck! I reach my article - and then I lose my temper, The heart begins to storm inside my breast, And throbbing blood bangs madly in my temple Just like police when coming to arrest!
© George Tokarev. Translation, ?
Edited by Robert Titterton
© Gavin Loughlin. Music, performance, 2013