Someone picked out a fruit that was green, was green, Gave the tree a good shake, down it fell, it fell... Hereís a song about who failed to sing, to sing, Of his having a voice unaware, unaware. Perhaps, there had been discords with the fate, the fate, And with luck, things had also been bad, been bad, While a taut string had lain onto frets, onto frets With a never detected defect. He coyly started - with a ĎCí, But in the middle, failed to sing... His chord had failed to ring all out, all out, And not a soul had been inspired... A dog was barking and a cat Was hunting mice... Amusing! Isnít it worth a smile, a smile? His joke went halfway to a halt, He hadnít finished tasting wine - He hadnít even had a shot. He was only about to start words, words, Still uncertain and slow to begin, As if small beads of sweat out of pores, Soul was showing up from under skin. Heíd just started a fight in a ring, Very slowly, heíd only begun. He had just got his bearings in it, And the judge had not started the count. Heís keen to know from A to Z, But hadnít got to it, he hadnít... Not a surmise, nor the profound - He hadnít dug down to the heart, Nor her, who was the only one, Had loved all out, had loved all out! Amusing! Isnít it worth a smile, a smile, Heíd hurried up, and all in vain? And everything he had no time To solve, for life unsolved remained. Iím not lying, the story is whole, Heíd devotedly served a pure style, He wrote verses to her on the snow, - Snows, unfortunately, thaw when time. But in those days it snowed, anyway, There was freedom to write on the snow. And large snowflakes, as well as hail, With his mouth he caught on the run. But in a landau, to her place, He failed to get, he failed to get... He hadnít run, a runner-fugitive, He hadnít flown, nor had he raced, While Taurus, a star sign of his, Was lapping ice-cold Milky Way. Amusing, isnít it worth a smile, When time is short through secondsí lack, A missing link, a lacking while - And under mark, and under mark. Amusing, isnít it? Here you are Amused, even I am put away. A horse in race, a bird in flight, And whoís to blame, and whoís to blame?
© Vyacheslav Chetin. Translation, 2011