A steam loko 's flying through vallies and highlands,
God knows where it is flying and which way.
A little boy has called himself a crook and a pilferer,
And his life now is a nonstop game
Don’t wait for me, mama, don’t wait for a good son,
Your son is not the same as yesterday.
I’ve been sucked and stacked in a dangerous mire
And my life now is a nonstop game.
And if I am put once behind bars of prison,
I'll save all the freedom in my heart,
And let the moon shine out its cool frigid lighting
I’ll run away from there anyhow.
And if prison guards catch site of my escaping
Then I, poor boy, will go to the bad.
I met up an alarm and took a great flyer
From lognboat I fell down, first the head.
I'll lie in the jail on a tough little plunk bed,
I'm going to lie down there and die.
And you do not come to me, oh, my dear mama,
To hug me and to kiss me, ever mind.
translated from Russian
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem