Vladimir Vysotsky. A Sad Love Song.

AAdapted from Edward Leitman’s translation by Akbar Muhammad. Ballad of the Flowers, Trees and Millionaires.

No reason to ask for pardon,
When singing of the best
She blossomed in a garden,
Secluded from the rest.

Her Mom was always absent,
Her Dad abandoned them,
But Chestnut with his branches
Hid her from glances well.

No matter how close
Was her devoted guard,
It happened that our Rose
Saw him and fell in love.

Narcissus was a flower
Sang of in lots of songs,
And many nice girls-flowers
Gave him their scents before.

He looked so cute and heady,
So ravishing and boon.
His Mom was a great lady,
His Dad was a tycoon.

He was sprayed in his childhood
And spread a real balm,
So Rose had the mind that
This wanton is the one.

Due to his wicked substance,
Narcissus told her once,
“Come out of the garden,
You are my life and love!”

No thing on earth is better
Than bursting forth like flame
She ran as from a ghetto...
Who’s he who should be blamed?

And all her ardent petals
Were captured by that devil.
Her Mom was with her fellows,
By Chestnut she wasn’t held.

She looked for her good fortune
And missed the lucky chance
To get a trusty portion
There Poppy pined from love.

And didn’t think how close
And trite the high life is:
There’s no more our Rose
Her petals don’t exist...


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