Aches and complaints, you name ’em, I’ve got ’em, Sicker of everything I’ve never been. Wish I could sink, like a sub, to the bottom, And disappear from all radar screens. A friend poured me drinks, though I kept refusing; He kept repeating, "This, too, shall pass." He hooked me up with one of his floozies - "She’ll help you, just like the booze in your glass." But neither helped me feel any less rotten: It made my head hurt, she made a scene. Wish I could sink, like a sub, to the bottom, And disappear from all radar screens. Aches and complaints, you name ’em, I’ve got ’em, Now, even singing sharpens my pain... Wish I could sink, like a sub, to the bottom, And send out signals never again.
© Serge Elnitsky. Translation, 2003