There was a time - I rushed in to the first row, And this is all from misunderstanding, - But for some time now Iím sitting at the back: There, upfront, like a machine gun stuck in to your neck, - Hard look, unkind breathing. And maybe, at the back is not so nice, But - much wider outlook, Much bigger run up and perspective And also - reliability and overview. The eyes barrels - up to ten - Like the muzzles on he target, but the one thatís live, - I can not save back of my head from gazes, And from behind, itís so easy to inflict Insult or wound with a knife. And maybe, at the back is not so nice, But - much wider outlook, Much bigger run up and perspective And also - reliability and overview. The first row is harmful for me, and they say - From those thoughts Iím setting myself for a bad fall. Itís better - where is darker - in the last row: From here there is no other way, And behind the back standing wall after wall. And maybe, at the back is not so nice, But - much wider outlook, Much bigger run up and perspective And also - reliability and overview. And even though the rivers of water away will flow, And though the down quilts will be completely filthy, - Till boldness, till the grey hair, till the beard Donít end up in the first row And donít aspire to be the prima - ballerina. And maybe, at the back is not so nice, But - much wider outlook, Much bigger run up and perspective And also - reliability and overview. Itís save at the back, but there are days - Iím telling myself, that I will enter with a suit of hearts: Itís not worse it to be always in the shadow - Donít stay too long in the last row, And gradually move into the first. And maybe, at the back is not so nice, But - much wider outlook, Much bigger run up and perspective And also - reliability and overview.
© Anatoli Trojanowski. Translation, 2018