Vysotski, Ballad of Childhood, Высоцкий, Баллада о Детстве

(edited) 1 Can t recall my conception s true hour, My reminiscence must be lopsided. I was cooked up in sin, after dark though, And saw light not until it was time to. I was born not in throes, nor in malice: After all, t was nine months not nine years. In a womb, I thus served my first sentence; There s nothing attractive down there. God s messengers, I m very glad You spitted mold and breathed upon, So, finally, my Mom and Dad Made up their mind,