Bulat Okudzhava

THE OLD STUDENTS’ SONG


He who will dare our union mar
deserves e the most severe sentence,
I wouldn’t give a grey guitar
for his damned life and his repentance.

So fervently the age intends
to knock us down with a feather...
Let’s join our hands my dear friends,
we won’t get lost, if we’re together.

At alien feasts on festive days,
amidst the shaky truths and fairness,
before we hear the words of praise
we will spruce up and preen our feathers.

While our stupid plume portends
a lasting journey, full of care,
let’s join our hands my dear friends,
let’s join our hands, friends, I declare!

When the partition day arrives
we will not covet bread for gratis
and we won’t get to paradise,
instead, Ophelia will bless us.

Before the crucial day descends,
before we for the road prepare
let’s join our hands my dear friends,
let’s join our hands, friends, I declare!