> ## Content Index
> Fetch the complete content index at: https://www.hawkword.com/llms.txt
> Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further.

# Translation:  Visotsky's My Two Fates
- URL: https://www.hawkword.com/poetry/translation-visotskys-my-two-fates/
- Published: 2021-07-20T12:00:00.000Z
- Updated: 2021-07-20T12:00:00.000Z
- Description: Life was great and full of plenty So it seemed when I was twenty As the saying goes
- Author: A. Gee
- Tags: Poetry, Allpoetry Import, #Import 2026-04-25 19:56

Life was great and full of plenty  
So it seemed when I was twenty  
As the saying goes

I was carefree, and seemed busy  
Current carried me, so dizzy  
Where the current flows

Going where the current’s flowing  
Needs no paddling or rowing  
What a gift, indeed

Wasps, mosquitos, the blood suckers  
Harried me, the evil fuckers  
But did not succeed

From the shores, I saw folks waving  
Offer help and offer saving  
But I paid no mind

Tried for naught, these eager troopers  
I was lying in a stupor  
Catatonic, dumb and blind

When the current rips, no matter  
Rapids break, it’s just a splatter  
All will be all right

I was brimming with affection  
Gazing at my own reflection  
Future seeming bright

As the shores drift up the river  
I am sipping from a quiver  
Of the mead I own

At “That’s It”, or almost near it  
I am joined by a foul spirit  
An enormous crone

While I sat there shocked, astonished  
Fogs descended, sunlight vanished  
The place reeked of death

And the ugly crone, she wriggles  
Bends and in my ear, she giggles  
With her beastly breath

I am screaming, but don’t hear it  
Cannot see a thing, but fear it  
I can barely see

The boat rocks as the winds blow it  
“Who goes there?” I finally know it  
It’s my Destiny

“Do not cross yourself and cower  
Here the Virgin has no power  
She will not provide

Those who forsake keel and paddle  
They are Destiny’s to addle  
And you must abide”

I seek pathways among shadows  
Sipping mead, each sip a small dose  
Each a tiny shot

But she doesn’t doze or stagger  
Marches on with little swagger  
Not a chance I got

Here she stumbles on a tree stump  
Shakes all over, what a big rump  
Heaves and hoes, the hulk

She is short of breath and wheezing  
But keeps pulling me, uneasy  
Her enormous bulk

Suddenly, we meet a creature  
Lame, and lacking a straight feature  
Mischief in each eye

“On the precipice you wobble.  
I will save you from your troubles  
Let your tears run dry”

I ask her: “and who shall you be?”  
And she says, “whatever’s to be.  
I am your Big Lie.

And though I am lame and graceless  
Cross eyed, humped, and often baseless  
I can get on by

I exclaimed, while pouring her some  
Save me, you old hump. Save this bum  
I am in your tow

I will even fix your old hump  
Just you get me from this old dump  
From this undertow

And here Destiny, you drink up  
Honesty in every dew drop  
Can you just relax?

In a minute, less, I reckon  
You’ll feel pretty, have no second  
As that tension cracks

The two crones fell on the bottle  
In hysteria, they prattle  
As they drink my mead

In the meantime, I seek shelter  
Crawling backwards, helter skelter  
There’s the shore, indeed

Paddling with urgent fervor  
No respite, no life preserver  
But I’m almost saved

Lap it up, you ancient phonies  
Hope you drop dead, you old cronies  
You are all I’ve craved

Had I known, what evil curses  
Mumbling what secret verses  
Had me in their grip

As a vagabond, I traveled  
Watching as my plans unraveled  
Saw my future slip

Life was grand and full of plenty  
So it seemed when I was twenty  
Scoundrel, that I was

They depart, still howling, crying  
My two fates, no lack of trying  
But with empty paws

---

**Author notes:** This is a sung, allegorical ballad by Vladimir Visotsky, one of the most influential songwriters and poets of the latter period of the Soviet era (he died in 1980). Much of his work was circulated underground. Though he never confirmed it while he was alive, many analysts thought that his two fates are his addictions. The ballad's creatures, loosely translated here (one is literally "Hard Fate) and other is literally "Bent" or "Curved", feature in Russian folklore. I've matched the rhythm and rhyming scheme of the song -- you can listen to the original here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TmLfoLJ4XgQ