My beloved fiancee will weep for my passing,
And my friends will pay off all my debts,
Other all the songs will keep on singing,
And my foes may toast me perhaps.

I don't get good reading any longer
My guitar is broken, out of tune,
And I can't go higher and I can't go lower
And I can't have sunlight or the moon.

I can't free myself - don't get a right to -
Only wall and door and in between
I cannot turn leftwards and I can't turn rightwards
Only just the piece of the sky, only just the dreams.

Dreams of how they'll free me, of how I will exit,
How they'll give my guitar back to me
Who will meet me there, how they will embrace me
And what kind of songs they'll sing to me.

By Vladimir Vysotsky
Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat
https://sites.google.com/site/ibshambat

--- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
* Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)