Poruchik Ivanov (BG)
Where are you now, poruchik Ivanov?
You go out on Parade with no pants;
You wander there, divinely naked,
You're dawned upon trolleybus arc;
When you go home from Parade,
Your neighbors hide in bushes.
Your revolver, shining like a diamond,
Always was embarrassing to my gentle eye.
And on nights is lit your candle,
When you strangle bedbugs in a temper,
And trample down flies with heavy boot…
Don't let me Lord become your enemy.
And on nights is lit your candle,
When you strangle bedbugs in a temper,
And trample down flies with heavy boot,
Don't let me Lord
become your enemy…
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