My friend went to Magadan, why, not known- Take off your hat to him, donít be dismayed! He left on his own, he left on his own- Not with convoy, stage by stage. Not that the friend wasnít a lucky guy, Not that he did it to someone out of spite, Not for the gossip sake: sort of, he is mad, - But just like that. But just like that. How could one decide to lose it all Maybe, someone will say: "Makes no sense! After all, overthere camps wall to wall, And in them murderers, and in them murderers..." He will reply: "Do not believe in hearsay - There are no more there, than in Moscow, Iíd say! Then heíll pack his suitcase and sit down And to Magadan, and to Magadan! This is not for me, Iím too young, - I wouldíve jump from the train at night and gone home But Iím not going to Magadan, Forgetting the habits, closing inverted commas. I will sing to the sound of strings About what I havenít seen About what he would see, and done, - About Magadan. About Magadan. All alone he would go, my friend- Enough of him, enough of him, - And by convoy he wonít be beaten in the camp, - He is volunteering, he is volunteering. But I have God given fate, under the sun... And maybe, as well to Magadan? To leave together with my friend - And to lie on the bottom!...
© Anatoli Trojanowski. Translation, 2018