Bourgeois Gentilhomme (pauldol) wrote,
Bourgeois Gentilhomme

Романс холодной индейки

Centuries flow like whales in the sea within their silent milieu,
Their steady way is gloomy like mine, but mine has limits to see.
The ocean wave is following me, for long its mane is familiar,
The evil ghost, the devil of sea is plainly threatening me.

I know no fear, but now and then, the wave is full of cold ire
It's pressing me with one single thought as years calmly go by:
What's up to my head and whether it can escape this craw, so dire,
If yes, at what expense it is bought and if it cannot then why.

My bride will be tired but, coming of age, she will not go into mourning,
A wealthy neighbour, kind-hearted and brave, will start to look for a wife;
In March, no later, they will be engaged and marry on one summer morning,
And then for sure the ocean wave will flow over my life.

Oh evil ghost, appear in the night, show up in the mighty splashes,
I want to see, in gentle moonshine, for all the way I behaved,
If I shall close my eyes at your sight or make a handful of ashes,
And will you take this soul of mine or may I hope to be saved?

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