Bulat Okudzhava
Potter

I take a slab of lovely red clay,
I squeeze and I knead it in my own way,
And I strike its flesh,
                                I punch
                                            and I flay...
And once my potter's wheel starts to stall
they will inhabit a pot's red wall:
a yellow bull - my left hand's print,
a grey stork drinking from a white spring,
a brown beggar
singing his own deathwish,
two green beauties and five blue fish..
Hey there, King!
This is the bull of your slave,
the fish of your slave...
but for these, he has nothing saved.
This is the brown beggar who'll rave
in the name of your crazed from ill-treatment
                                                                       slave.
Hey there, King!
Let's take a few risks, you and I.
You'll risk your head,
I will render your head in clay.
Let's indulge in lust, sloth and pride,
push God aside,
pull a wench on the bed, to our side.
Hey there, King!
When you're weary of eating off gold,
have them bring you my wares standing unsold,
with a yellow bull —
my left hand's print,
a grey stork drinking from a white spring,
a brown beggar singing his own deathwish,
two green beauties
and five blue fish...

Translated by Tanya Wolfson