Gold Digger
You're eager to start and you're courageous,
You know that your will is enough for a life and a half,
You know you can go without water and work without wages,
You've learnt how to savor the feeling of danger,
But can you foretell just how deeply you're able to love?
Oh, this is not like to bear a torture,
Or walk the tightrope, or act in a play.
For how to get to the treasure without misfortunes
A brilliant gold digger himself is not likely to say.
You're careful now, and it's been ages
Since it didn't take you much time to fall in a cleft,
But fears and doubts are so contagious,
Your circus is made up of fences and cages,
A single unchangeable coin is all you have left.
Oh, it's not being a pirate in Dover,
It's not like to die in the armor of iron and brass.
Hey, thank you, it's up, it's too late and your service is over,
And life is a hobby and not vice versa, alas.
Your son will grow up and ask out loud.
You'll tell him — don't rush, take your time to think over your role:
Who are you, where from and what is it for and about.
Then feel for your coin — so tiny and yellow and round.
Yes, life is too short for the body, but not for the soul.
Oh, this is not about pulling a trigger,
It's harder than even to catch little kids in the rye.
Who are you? What are you? Oh, yes — a gold digger.
God bless you, my son. Good luck and good-bye.
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