The Song of the Old Customs Officer by Bulat Oqujava

Your Highest Honour, Lady Separation,

I feel cold in your company—such is my situation.

A little letter in an envelope—wait, do not tear it...

I have no luck in death, but I’ll find luck in loving.

Your Highest Honour, Lady Fortune instantaneous site,

To some you are kind, but to others—quite the opposite.

A lead bullet in the heart—wait, do not summon it enough:

I have no luck in death, but I’ll find luck in love!

Your Highest Honor, Lady Foreign Land unfriendly,

You embraced me warmly, yet you never loved truly.

Into silken nets—wait, do not ensnare my raft .

I have no luck in death, but I’ll find luck in love!

Your Highest Honour, Lady Victory radiant.

It seems I did not die with my  song unsung.

Cease, you devils, your swearing upon blood  flow,

I have no luck in death, but I’ll find luck in love!