Bulat Okudzhava
How i sat on the tsar`s throne

It’s eighteenth century. The actors
play on a lawn, in open space.
I’m Paul the First, that is I act as
the Russian ruler of those days.

I listen to the sound of piano
and feel my head to music sway,
I raise my hand in regal manner,
but this is what I want to say:

«Away with finery and polish!
The brittle heels you should forget...
Parades and marches I abolish...
Roll up to visit bars instead...

Drink hard and make no bones about
rejoicing, marrying for fun...
Come on, grandees, have a look round!
Come on, cash down, everyone!»

And, menacingly, I am going
to draw my rapier, in a rage...
But I’m Paul the First, the sovereign.
A mutiny I cannot stage.

I still can hear the music linger.
And once again I want to cry:
«My dear fellows, lift a finger,
you’ll work it out, if you try:

we’ll kick the hateful monarch out,
and spit upon gendarmerie,
I’m sick and tired of that crowd...
I’ll take the lead... Just follow me...»

And, menacingly, I am going
to draw my rapier, in a rage...
But I’m Paul the First, the sovereign.
A mutiny I cannot stage.

The music plays which I must follow,
and yet I am about to say:
«For your distress, your pains, your sorrow
I want to give my life away!

Don’t be afraid of accusations
or you’ll end up in a bad way.
I look ahead through generations, —
I’m quite aware of what I say!»

And, menacingly, I am going
to draw my rapier, in a rage...
But I’m Paul the First, the sovereign.
A mutiny I cannot stage.

Translated by Alec Vagapov