Vladimir Vysotsky — The masks

Somebody must have played a trick on me,

I'm laughing, for it's like distorting mirrors, --

Big noses, clown's grins, -- it seems to be

A fancy-ball, or carnival in Venice.

A dancing crowd has encircled me,

They push me urging me to take my chances.

My ordinary face, as I can see,

Was taken for a mask by the rejoicing dancers.

Confetti, fireworks... But all I do is vain,

They look at me reproachfully, with sadness,

The say that I am out of time again,

That I keep stepping on the shoes of partners.

What shall I do? Shall I just run away?

Or had I better go on making merry?

I hope beneath the masks of beasts of prey

Some have a human face and normal bearing.

They all are masked and "wigged", -- each is akin

To fairy tale or literary figure

Here is a hangman, there's a gloomy harlequin,

And every third one is a stupid piggy.

I join the dancers, laughing, yet I feel,

Uneasy and disturbed: it may so happen, --

Someone may like his hangman's mask and will

Refuse to take it off and be quite happy.

What if the gloomy looking harlequin

Should really be disheartened and cast down?

What if the fool should wear his stupid grin

Upon his normal face, without a frown?

I wish I could discern a really good face

And tell an honest man from a dishonest ...

To save their faces from a break-up and disgrace

They put on masks and wear them in earnest.

I know what masks are for, and I expect

I'm right in guessing the ingenious riddle :

The masks that people wear will protect

Their faces from a slap and spittle.