I went to buy some soul, a half-pound merely,

Chtěl jsem si koupit dvacet deka duše,

some crumbs of truth, a pint of conscience, sense,

pár kousků pravdy, litr svědomí,

but the salesgirl was short, and sighed severely:

leč prodavačka odvětila suše:

“People these days… They’re nothing short of dense.”

»Jak jsou ti lidi dneska pitomí…«

I was nonplussed and in my stride I took it,

Mně ovšem tímto nevyvedla z míry,

saying: “No problem, I’m sure we can cope;

řekl jsem: »Dobrá, nic se neděje,

a pennyworth of trust then, just the ticket,

dejte mi teda za korunu víry,

a dab of feeling, and some bottled hope.”

osminku citu, láhev naděje.«

She said: “You’ll have to stand in line, be patient.”

A ona řekla: »Musíte stát frontu.«

The queue stretched o’er the hills and far away,

A fronta vedla cik-cak za hory

to the horizon snaked, for what seemed rationed…

a potom dál, až někam k horizontu.

Yet, all just wanted spuds, and less to pay.

A všichni lidi chtěli brambory.