When forty rolls around
It’s too late to play with the muses
It’s too late to languish to music
To drink fiery potion
It’s time to quiet down
It’s time to raise grandchildren
It’s time to shorten your road
When forty rolls around.
When forty rolls around
You shouldn’t be rash
You shouldn’t write letters
You shouldn’t haunt the night
Cursing your desires and lusts
Or hang onto dreams of life
On seventh heaven
When forty rolls around.
When forty rolls around
When forty rolls around
We turn into Venus’ step-children
Be it Moscow or New York
You’re kicked out to the backstreets.
That’s all, grandma Sofia
That’s what’s left of your philosophy
When forty rolls around.
Когда перевалит за сорок,
Поздно водиться с Музами,
Поздно томиться музыкой,
Пить огневое снадобье, —
Угомониться надобно:
Надобно внуков нянчить,
Надобно путь заканчивать,
Когда перевалит за сорок.
Когда перевалит за сорок,
Нечего быть опрометчивой,
Письма писать нечего,
Ночью бродить по дому,
Страсть проклинать подлую,
Нечего верить небыли,
Жить на седьмом небе,
Когда перевалит за сорок.
Когда перевалит за сорок,
Когда перевалит за сорок,
Мы у Венеры в пасынках,
Будь то в Москве иль в Нью-Йорке,
Выгнаны мы на задворки...
Так-то, бабушка Софья, —
Вот-те и вся философия,
Когда перевалит за сорок!
«It’s time my friends, it’s time. We long for peace / of heart. But days chase days and every hour / gone by means one less hour to come. We live / our lives, dear friend, in hope of life, then die. / There is no happiness on earth, but peace / exists, and freedom too. Tired slave, I dr...»
«City of splendour, city of poor, / spirit of grace and servitude, / heaven’s vault of palest lime, / boredom, granite, bitter cold — / still I miss you rather, for / down your streets from time to time / one may spy a tiny foot, / one may glimpse a lock of gold.»
«Like a jester complaining of the cruel weight / of his hump – let me tell about my orphaned state. Behind the devil there’s his horde, behind the thief there’s his band, / behind everyone there’s someone to understand and support him – the assurance of a living wall / of thousands ...»
«What did they do / with the relatives of Christ? / What did they do with them? / No written source / will tell you a damned thing — / nothing but crossings out, emptiness. / What the hell did they do with them? What did they do / with those simple people, / simple craftsmen, men w...»