Sasha Chorny
Life

Three students sit with a pair of whores:
    Dudilenko, Barsov, and Blok;
Dasha wears a kerchief and a boa,
    And Kasha a shawl and a frock.

The workman's lamps have burned right down,
    All eyes are on the cards they play,
Heads bent low, necks and shoulders round,
    They follow one another's stakes.

They play without cheating, yet before they go bust,
    They'd fiddle the cards if they dared,
But in less than a wink the others would thrust
    The cheat, with a laugh, under the bed.

They'd keep him down there to enviously watch
    The game he's chucked out of and sigh,
While the table would allure him with its hotchpotch
    Of round loaves, and aces, and tea.

Drowned in the darkened folds of their dresses,
    The girls' auburn plaits hanging down,
They play like children passing time quietly
    While the grown-ups are out on the town.

But officers' portraits hang from the walls,
    Too many, perhaps, for two girls;
A rumpled pillow and a bottle of sherry.
    And a carpet that's terribly worn.

A rap on the door. "Sorry, boys, guests have arrived."
    Dudilenko, Barsov, and Blok
Gather their books, unjealously rise
    And leave at the sound of the knock.

Translated by Bernard Meares