Ira
No, no, no wasn't me
You were told, knew it
Planned and sat by me
-Open-eye in waiting!
Hosts served us
Wine, vodka and salo
-slabs of the pork fat; processed.
Then after
We were sent to hermit
You and I, two of us...!
There was no referee
To catch and penalise...
To raise hand of winner,
We headed for mattress
Up and down…to wrestle!
Bed broke into parts…
Let us say we don't know…
Do not know what went on
Let's blame it on God…
Day after travelled...
Left Ovroch for Kharkov
Ended in the village of your house…
There again we played
Same old game…
With same cards...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem