Translation:
The Barley
Oh, how the barley complains
When it changes color:
If you didn’t want me,
Then why did you plant me?
I will witness the same
As what you did to me last year:
You didn’t have a combine
And you were experimenting so much that
The worker cut me with a haying scythe
When we came into contact
And you made a fire on me
Look at what you did --
By my sin, a rock will burn
The flame reaches the sky
What were you thinking, committee?
This is your fault!
You burnt me and then you were happy
You played the tambourine
With your own hands you set me on fire
Tedua and Zaira
She is again a cadre
Our girl – Zaira
I am waiting for the sound of the tambourine
Or to be burned again
The mechanic justifies himself
A handsome guy, Raul
He doesn’t think, regarding this story
That he is at fault
He has earned a little money
One or two Shaur¹
What does the economist,
Beautiful Lena, say?
She took care of her business well
And she is calm, that fox
She never gives correct answers
Beautiful Lena
Our office workers
Are drinking cognac
If the inspector visits
They offer him a soft chair
Who could the inspector be?
Shota Khutsishvili?
More than all of the workers
He loves the cognac bottle
I no longer know where I can go
To seek justice
I visited the trade union
And ingratiated myself
I looked at the head of union
With kind eyes
He, too, ignored me
Just look at him!
You bastard, get away from us
Don’t eat our hearts
"Now, why do we need barley?
When we all have money!"
I am again in the field
Miserly, worried to death
I can no longer tell you why it is -
I no longer have reason:
They sew my fields and then don’t want me
At the end, no one takes me
I can no longer tell you anything
I have lost all reason
In the papers they are writing about
The fulfillment of all of these plans
I, the barley, complain of this --
That I have such enemies
¹Russian monetary unit used during the Soviet Union a 5-kopeck coin, equal to one-hundredth of a ruble.
Musa Imali