Translation: Visotsky's My Two Fates

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