We don t choose the times we live in-Engl. transla

We don't choose the times we live in,
We're born and die within their hold.
No greater vulgarity exists
Than to complain, or to bemoan its mold,

As if you could swap one for another,
Like goods upon a market stall.
Though every age is etched in iron deep,
A wondrous garden still will smoke and gleam.

At five, my breath could cease to sweep,
Had I lived in a perfect, innocent dream -
A world where sorrow held no sway,
And hardship never saw the light of day.

For times are not for choosing, no:
In them we live, in them we die.
Though every age, an iron glow,
A wondrous garden meets the eye,
And sunlit clouds drift in the sky.
My very epoch, I embrace it tight;
My fate, my destiny, my guiding light.
For time's a test, a sacred plight -
Envy no soul, with all your might.

You count yourself among the blessed few,
But would you live when Ivan ruled the land?
No yearning for the plague, the Florentine hue?
Or leprosy, taking a heavy hand?

You long for passage, first-class, bright and clear,
Not in the dark hold, lost in shadowed fear?
For every age, an iron grip holds fast,
But wondrous gardens, still, their beauty cast,
And fleeting clouds, a silver gleam,
Within the constant, troubled stream.

For times are not for choosing, no:
In them we live, in them we die.
Though every age, an iron glow,
A wondrous garden meets the eye,
And sunlit clouds drift in the sky.
My very epoch, I embrace it tight;
My fate, my destiny, my guiding light.
For time's a test, a sacred plight -
Envy no soul, with all your might.

Embrace your time, a strong, true hold;
For time is skin, not garments bought and sold.
Its deep imprint, a mark upon your soul,
Like fingerprints, etched on us, taking toll.

Its lines, its folds, its features you can see,
Reflected in the very soul of thee.
A test of spirit, strong and ever true -
No need to envy, not a single one, it's true.

For times are not for choosing, no:
In them we live, in them we die.
Though every age, an iron glow,
A wondrous garden meets the eye,
And sunlit clouds drift in the sky.
My very epoch, I embrace it tight;
My fate, my destiny, my guiding light.
For time's a test, a sacred plight -
Envy no soul, with all your might.

Times are not chosen, no, my friend:
In them we live, until the end.
Let wondrous gardens still ascend,
Their beauty blooming, without end.
Embrace your epoch, understand...
Time is skin, the imprint of your hand.

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You can listen to the song via the link:

https://disk.yandex.ru/d/CV565csR3S4Qtw


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Времена не выбирают,
В них живут и умирают.
Большей пошлости на свете
Нет, чем клянчить и пенять.
Будто можно те на эти,
Как на рынке, поменять.
Что ни век, то век железный.
Но дымится сад чудесный,
Блещет тучка; я в пять лет
Должен был от скарлатины
Умереть, живи в невинный
Век, в котором горя нет.
Ты себя в счастливцы прочишь,
А при Грозном жить не хочешь?
Не мечтаешь о чуме
Флорентийской и проказе?
Хочешь ехать в первом классе,
А не в трюме, в полутьме?
Что ни век, то век железный.
Но дымится сад чудесный,
Блещет тучка; обниму
Век мой, рок мой на прощанье.
Время - это испытанье.
Не завидуй никому.
Крепко тесное объятье.
Время - кожа, а не платье.
Глубока его печать.
Словно с пальцев отпечатки,
С нас - его черты и складки,
Приглядевшись, можно взять.

Автор слов - Александр Кушнер

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Послушать мою версию песни можно по ссылке:

https://disk.yandex.ru/d/0ugftZo4hVigjw