Bang! bang! Once more, bang! Again, bang! And then Boris Budkeev (Krasnodar) Gives me the old one-two. Then he gets me into a corner, And I just barely get out, Then the old one-two and Iím On the floor feeling bad. And Budkeev thought, while shattering my jaw: "Itís good to live and life is good!" At the count of seven, Iím still lying there. The local fans are moaning. I get up, lunge, dance back - Glasses would look good on me. Not true, as if Iím saving up For the end. Since childhood Iíve been unable to beat somebodyís face in! But Budkeev thought, shattering my ribs: "Itís good to live and life is good!" In the stands, they whistle and howl: "Get him! Heís yellow!" Budkeev closes in, And I press back on the ropes. But he gets through, heís Siberian - An insistent and nasty lot. And I say to him: "You character! Youíre probably tired, so rest!" But he didnít hear me. He was thinking: "Itís good to live and life is good!" And he keeps on hitting... tough devil! I see thereís going to be trouble. True, boxing is not brawling-itís a sport Of the brave, and so on... So he hits me one, two, three And runs out of strength. The ref raises my hand, The one I didnít use in the fight. Budkeev lay there thinking life is good... Good for some, for others a bunch of crap!
© H. William Tjalsma. Translation, 1982