Ya.Smelyakov, If I Fall Ill... - Song - Translation (Rus.) Poem by Lyudmila Purgina

Song

By Yaroslav Smelyakov

If I fall ill, then never I'll call for a doctor for care,
I need always my friends, that's evident,  
(Don't think that's a case of the rave) :
And, my friends, stretch a steppe,
Windows cover with mist, coloured grey,
And put lightly on bedhead
The night star there shining a fame.

I went baldheaded forth, wasn't a touch-me-not person.
If I turn to be wounded in the righteous wars,
Then, please, bind my head all with a mountain road,
With a blanket, please, cover, where flowers blow.

Any powder, mixture I need not, let's in my glass
Always beams shine and winds of the deserts and falls -
Would be means for the treatment. The oceans, mounts
Are the age's phenomena - look there and live long.

Not the white cachets dot all my life then,
There're the clouds.
Not the hospital's corridor,
But leave you by the Milky Way...