THE SONG

 Sailor, my dear, my heaven-made spouse! 
 There is one thing that I beg of you, man: 
 Kiss any strangers, and give them your flowers, 
 love many women.
 But, pray, don't love one.
 


 These are the words that I send with my letter, 
 piercing land after land they will moan; 
 stay there as long as you wish, and you'd better 
 love all the countries, but, pray, don't love one.
 


 Give me a whistle -- when tired of roving.
 
 Held in sweet bondage, or about to drown, 
 play with your life as you wish, when you're roaming, 
 but don't ruin ours because it is one.



© Copyright Alec Vagapov's translation

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