Johnny jones

Johnny Jones is at the station
Waiting for the train's arrival
Looking forward to a beer
Monday surely is the toughest day of all.
simple folk are all around him
Rushing to the train like crazy
Stomping on his feet and wings
and they're pushing his back  right against the wall

But with them he'll never mix
fellow citizens of his
He holds Sartre in his pocket
And fellow citizens at best have got few bucks
Johnny Jones is reading poems
And controllers come to wagon
And they fine our friend for nothing
he hates Mondays with his heart, cause Mondays suck

He lives on the oceanside
In an underground hostel
Between kitchen and the restroom
And the restroom's full of people all the time
And the friends they come to his place
Bringing trunkloads of Port wine 
And they spend their lives together
In comparative analysis of wine

Then they leave without traces
Only very best of friends
And a few enchanted ladies
Stay with him until the very break of dawn
And the morning comes as always
Grey from cigarettes and smoke
Proving long-forgotten thesis
That each day is just one day of groundhog


Based on previous translation by Mikhail Morozov