For a long time eh I walk in the light
In a wheelchair, the top,
In the tent, then in a carriage,
In the cart, the foot?
Not hereditary den,
Not among the graves otcheskih,
On the big me, know, the road
Die Lord judge,
On stones under the hoof,
On the mountain under the wheel,
Or in the moat, blurred water,
Under the bridge dismantled.
Ile plague I will pick up,
Ile frost okostenit,
Or my forehead barrier punched
unready disabled.
Or in the woods under the knife villain
Rank in side,
Or bored about
Somewhere in quarantine.
How long is my only weapon in my anguish of hunger
Post involuntary comply
And cold veal
Tryufli Yar remember?
Whether it be on the spot,
According to Butcher drive,
About village, the bride
At leisure to think!
What a difference a glass of rum,
night sleep, morning tea;
That you work, brothers, houses!..
Well, I went well, drive!..
