Someone sighted a fruit that was green, was green, Yet they scattered the trunk - it fell down, fell down... Hereís a chant on a man that has been, has been Capable, still of his gift has not known, hasnít known. Might be there were troubles with the fate, the fate, With a chance might be there was hassle, was hassle, Or taut strings that were laid on the fret, the fret, Had defects, - at the fret did not nestle. The note C he started with But let the timid sound cease... He struck a chord and stopped it dead For no one thought it was nice. The dog was barking and the cat Was catching mice... Itís funny, is not it? Itís fun! Itís fun! He joked, still did not complete, And didnít taste a wine be fine, And even did not taste a sip. All his wrangles he just wished to begin, begin, Doubtful, and without adours, adours, The soul oozed throughout the skin, the skin Like a sweat coming out of pores, of pores. He just started a fight in the ring, the ring, - Narrow start of the game, no more, - Just a bit looked around the scene, Referees didnít open a score. He wanted learning everything, Still didn't hover on the brink... He with a surmise could have done For he was fit to act indeed; His love with his the only one Was incomplete, was incomplete! Itís funny, is not it? Itís fun, itís fun... He joked - did he finish it? Did not unfold what he began And was not able to make it neat. He was honest in his pure rhyme, pure rhyme - It is true to the greatest extent, extent, - On the snow the verses for her he did write, But unluckily snows do melt, do melt. But besides there was snowfall, snowfall, And a freedom to write on the snow - And a hail, snowflakes large and small At full speed he could touch with his brow. To Her in a silvery landau Did not come up the troubadour... Ill-starred he was right down the line, the line, Did not fly up or ride up, nay, While zodiac Taurus, this manís sign, Was lapping lukewarm Milky Way. Itís funny, is not it? itís fun, itís fun When lack of time is a tight spot, A missing link and a wrong one, And falling short, and falling short! Itís funny, isnít it? All right! Itís fun for you, for me - the same. A steed at tilt, a bird in flight - Who is to blame, who is to blame, who is to blame?
© Vyacheslav Chistyakov. Translation, 2016