Values change from day to day:

Now complete peace, now nothing but bustle.

First money rules, jingling with coinage,

Then borrowing two rubles is a torment.

Now you love tall, thin blondes,

Then dark, plump, and mischievous ones.

Sometimes the outfit holds significance,

And often a diploma and a thoughtful gaze.

You live for weeks without alcohol,

Then vodka, beer, a midnight brawl.

Sometimes the table is full of exquisite dishes,

Then you sit on reserves like a camel.

And so constantly from minus to plus:

Now I'm cursing, now I'm praying to God.

It throws me from one extreme to another:

Now I'm on a horse, now already without a horse.

The golden mean is not easy to reach:

First the hunter, and after I am the prey.

Now I'm exhausted, barely staying afloat,

And then I row against the waves with all my might.

I've wanted stability for many years:

In affairs — for balance, in feelings — for parity.

But passion carries me, worthless kindling,

And I either surface or sink again.