So smoky - the mirrors are dim as if frosted, I hardly can see mates that play in my band. The couples donít dance any longer, exhausted, Iím choked, itís hot, but Iíll sing to the end! The last tune begins to exhaust And gall us. The wine in my goblet has lost Its colors. My wish to be singing would shrink And pass, I guess, I would rather just drink My glass. I fear - weíll see no sun half a year, The souls get icy and life doesnít fizz; Itís silly to wait for the sun to appear And memories donít heat you up when you freeze! The last tune begins to exhaust And gall us. The wine in my goblet has lost Its colors. My wish to be singing would shrink And pass, I guess, I would rather just drink My glass. The band slips, they play out of key as Iím singing, A circle around me is closing tight. But steady! I must leave the stage, broadly grinning, Iíll sing to the end in this smoke tonight! The last tune begins to exhaust And gall us, The wine in my goblet has lost Its colors. My wish to be singing would shrink And pass. I guess, I would rather just drink My glass!
© George Tokarev. Translation, 2009
Edited by Robert Titterton