by Michael Shcherbakov
translated by Yury Nesterenko

* * *

For greater glory of your Greece and all the seas around,
We will take our ten-winged ship and we'll name her "Argo".
We'll leave behind the local snows and we will sail southbound.
I'll be the helmsman of the ship and you will sing, Margot.

By those ten-millennial songs which are so wondrous still,
By ancient maps of mythic lands it will be opportune
To learn the language of your gods - I always had a will
To understand its crystal words, to know its golden tune.

The water, where, like a reed, a rocky land has grown,
Will not bestow on us a bliss, but will not stop our breath.
It's warm without blood or tears, and salty on its own.
It's troubled not by our life, nor more by our death.

Original song

Note: The correct stress in the Greek name Argo (Ἀργώ), as well as in the French name Margot, is on the second syllable.
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