Ходики [Khodiki] [English translation]

When my beloved came into my room,

There was a pile of volumes in the middle.

And my beloved said: “It’s way too little.

We need a home.” Our love was there to bloom.

And with a backpack that had seen a lot

We went together for some major shopping.

And we obtained wall clocks without much talking;

A whistling kettle we have also bought.

CHORUS:

There is no better fire than one that’s shining brightly,

And there’s no better home than your own family home,

Where kitchen clocks still chime persistently and timely,

Where my beloved is, where my beloved is,

Where my beloved is, where kettle’s hiss is heard.

But soon the other vistas came in sight.

We have acquired a number of possessions

That promised, on a number of occasions,

To decorate our decorated life.

And snows came flying, rustling with new mail,

And covered my small tent with many letters

That told me all is fine despite my absence,

It’s just our clocks are running fast again.

CHORUS

A hundred years with my beloved passed.

What am I saying? Must be more: two hundred.

A new place called us, we began to wonder

If light is brighter at new place at dusk.

The words we failed to use, but which we knew,

Were softly spoken at the new location.

And so, avoiding any further questions,

We chose to hurry to the place of blue.

Since then I’ve paced quite many lands and shores

In my own state and further by extension.

I was recalling with a strange obsession

How many times I have repaired these clocks.

Beneath their weights now sits another man,

But clocks themselves are not at fault or guilty,

Since they were married only once and quickly,

But, like their master, running fast again.

CHORUS