Falen's Boris Godunov

[Sarah Hurst]

I went in for the "Mniszek's sonnet" translation contest 2 years ago but
never received any acknowledgement of my entry, so I've written to ask
whether the winning entries are going to be made available for comparison.
Here's my attempt, please don't ridicule it too much!

We old men no longer dance away the night, 
The sound of music fails to rouse our shanks, 
Hands we neither press nor kiss with such delight - 
Ah, I have not forgotten the old pranks! 
But all that has disappeared, there's no more spark: 
And young people are really not so bold,
And beauty's somehow even turning cold - 
Admit it, my friend: our world is rather dark. 
Leave them; let's get out of here, trusty mate, 
Order up a jar, if it's not too late, 
Of the Hungarian, mottled black with grime, 
And we'll stretch out in some corner together 
A sweet-scented spot, a stream as thick as lime, 
And meanwhile we'll let our tongues untether. 
Let's go, brother.   

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