I grew up here, in Leningrad blockaded, I didn’t drink then, went not on a spree. I saw Badaev’s stocks all bursted - being often raided, And queued up for the bread in a bakery. Ye, so brave and fair, What did you do, and where Were you afar the city of the dead? You ate the bread with caviar, But I was praying the Savior To help me not to lose the card for bread. Severe cold - the birds were not apparent, A thief - to steal - got nothing if at all, That winter angels took to heaven both - and either - parents, And most of all I was afraid to fall. Starvation and the dystrophies Of every man jack, mistresses, The prosecutor was as well disabled - You - in evacuation - Just read some information From “Sovinformbureau” outbailed. The siege was finally over, for ever, At last our people beat all its enemies, You now you can live a carefree life - without care, An obstacle is just the people’s police. I’ll do what I’m bidden, Citizens with a ribbon, But do not touch my soul with a dirty hand! Your personal, exotic Life isn’t patriotic! It’s known to the bodies start to end.
© Vyacheslav Chistyakov. Translation, 2011