You and I have nothing to talk about; I am tired of your stupid chatter, Iíd better join my pals for a drink, For the things they say, really matter... With them conversation is in a serious vein: Telling how to handle the stuff while being subtle Their outlooks encompasses a wider plane; Which store is closer to get the necessary bottle... Our talks are coarse but always straight from the shoulder Our problems, though serious, are few. There is always the question of raising the missing ruble To buy the "Extra" bottle or two... In the morning you give me kvass made of bread, Is this a drink thatís fit for man? Our intellects, I fear, have grown too far apart; Improve your education if you can...
© Misha Allen. Translation, 1968