A beauty’s tempting eyes
Will do no harm by glancing;
Since youth we fantasize
Of loving and romancing.
My friends, you must agree,
My friends, you must agree,
Although it’s not all sugar,
It simply has to be.
Move on, my destiny!
If not — oh well, whatever;
My friends, you must agree
With destiny’s endeavor.
My friends, you must agree,
My friends, you must agree,
Although it’s not all sugar,
It simply has to be.
Somewhere it waits for me,
The ultimate defying;
My friends, you must agree,
No life is without dying.
My friends, you must agree,
My friends, you must agree,
Though life is not all sugar,
Our life just has to be.
Красотки томный взор
не повредит здоровью.
Мы бредим с юных пор:
любовь, любви, любовью.
Не правда ли, друзья,
Не правда ли, друзья,
с ней, может быть, несладко,
а без нее нельзя.
Вперед, судьба моя!
А нет, так бог с тобою.
Не правда ли, друзья:
судьба, судьбы, судьбою?
Не правда ли, друзья,
не правда ли, друзья,
с ней, может быть, несладко,
а без нее нельзя?
Он где-то ждет меня,
мой главный поединок.
Не правда ли, друзья,
нет жизни без поминок?
Не правда ли, друзья,
не правда ли, друзья,
жить, может быть, несладко,
да вот не жить нельзя.
«Today, as I see, you're especially wistful, my love. / Your hands are especially slim / while embracing your knees. / O, listen! In far away, far away lands, / by lake Chad / there wanders a gorgeous giraffe. His skin in embroidered with a fairy miraculous weave. / Who'd dare to come an...»
«Lather of lassitude round the lips again. / Ploughing the waves there furiously swims the Bull. / Snorting, not fond of rowing, a lady's man. / Hard is the cargo, he's labouring to the full. Time and again there jumps up a dolphin's wheel / Or a sea urchin gives them a thorny peck. / Soft...»
«The girl was singing in a church choir, / About the weary abroad, far away, / About the ships in the sea, so dire, / And those who'd forgotten their happy day. So sweet was her voice flying up into highness / With shimmering beam on her shoulder of white, / And every one listened watc...»
«I have no use for regimental odes, / Or the impassioned elegiac hoax. / I make my verses quite beside the point / Made by the just, plain folks. / I wish you knew the kind of garbage heap / Wild verses grow on, paying shame no heed, / Like dandelions yellowing a fence, / Like burdock a...»