Vyacheslav Malezhik - 200 years (1990)

© Translated by Adûnâi, based on Google Translate
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Two hundred years long a gypsy told me my life would be,
A full cup of life, satiety without hassle,
But grace of two hundred years old, oh, how little it is,
You would better tell me happiness for at least a year!

Tell me, dear, of love anxiety,
Tell me into the eyes of the enemy boldly to look,
Faithful comrade on a long journey,
And more, more, more, more of something else!
And more, more, more, more of something else!

Two hundred years the cuckoo told me
What will make me happy, it knew in advance,
But two hundred years, cuckoo, oh, how little that is!
Get one at least, but a troubled year,

To laugh at fate, and suffer from happiness,
To whip fate along the ridge with a trump card,
All or nothing, and then - whatever happens!
And more, more, more, more of something else!
And more, more, more, more of something else!

Living many years is irrelevant,
Smolder like an ember all my life - wild melancholy,
But sometimes one day is longer than a century,
It would be nice to find this day in your life!
It would be nice to find this day in your life!

Yet it is nowhere to be found,
How mysteriuos is the way of fate.
I wish I could meet everything in life, everything I dream about,
And more, more, more, more of something else!
And more, more, more, more of something else!

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