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, and I was born To dark and inconspicuous times, Today, as old as fabulous, When sentenced to enormous times Were counting halting places off. Some, rousted on the cookup night, And plenty had already been, And yet to think they re still alive, My good old honored kith and kin 2 Forward, vigorous thoughts Forward, dear Have your say, dear lines Have your say It s the first time that I, by decree, Had been freed in 1938. I