Позолоти ручку, на английском

Verse 1:
Daddy, I’ve been trying, truly —
Got straight A’s, you should be proud.
School, diploma — sweet and smoothly,
Not some stage act in a crowd.
No, I chose the hard direction:
“Econ-Security” — respect!
No wild nights, no misdirection,
Just pure stress upon my neck!
Verse 2:
Freshman year — dorm party glory:
Porridge, tea, and socks in bed.
Now I rent a flat — no worry —
Fourth floor dreams inside my head.
Stipend? Sure, it sometimes lands —
Covers choco, maybe train…
But my card’s in overdraft,
And my pockets just complain.
Chorus:
Daddy, dearest, gimme a little gold —
For some food… and maybe clothes not old.
Chocolate bar? A cozy sweater fold?
You know, daddy — your baby’s sweet as gold!
Tuesday, Friday — sacred days,
Gimme a little gold, okay?
Verse 3:
“Daddy dear, remember? Tuesday’s sacred too…”
“Yes, my Dasha, but my wallet’s sacred — and it’s through!”
— “Dad, you want your little girl
Starving with no milk to sip?”
— “Well… the cash reserves are gone…”
— “DAD, don’t let me lose my grip!”
— “Fine…” I hear that transfer chime…
And a sigh across the line.
Life is nuts, but you’re my shine —
I love you, dad… always mine!
Verse 4:
Tried a job — I brewed with passion,
Thought I’d get some real big pay.
Worked as barista with fashion —
Every cup a poem a day.
Still I ended with three hundreds
For a week to last and breathe…
Guess I’d better make that phone call
To my daddy — quick relief!
Verse 5:
Mommy, how’s my pup — my furry Shoni bear?
Send me pics — his fluff and wagging tail so rare!
Miss him deeply in this foreign city gray,
Without him, my joy just fades away…
And oh! Mommy, please… send a pinch of spice,
Some cutlets, cake — your cooking’s paradise!
Send it with the minibus — I’ll carry it alone,
Even if my tiny back moans and groans!
My body craves it — honestly, no lie —
Your homemade love — no need to justify!
Bridge / Final verse:
One day I’ll come home — in blazer, proud and bright,
You’ll be standing in the doorway, heart alight.
All these crazy days — exams, rent, noisy scenes —
Fade away, ‘cause love is all that truly means.
Last Chorus (with love):
Daddy, dearest, gimme a little gold —
For some food… and maybe clothes not old.
Chocolate bar? A cozy sweater fold?
You know, daddy — your baby’s sweet as gold!
Tuesday, Friday — sacred days,
Gimme a little gold… always!