Plays and roles, scenes, tours
That’s all my life, just like as it is
In joy, in grief – our successes,
Our disgrace and honour.
Pain and tiredness –
Signs on our ways
Everything that was left –
To play fairly and go on.
Searches, arguments
Intrigues, quarrels
Our bread is sweet – pure honey!
To measure the the cowardnesses,
Who are you, in reality?
Somebody, certainly, will get to the end
Our doubts are with us
And it means it isn’t considerable
But the revelations in the hell
So is there anything else?
Well that is, in breaf
All the information,
In principe, everything, like others
The same job, in drops of sweat
He plays just like others do
Evening, journey
We’ve got no time to do more
Believe in the little
To go and sing to the end.