In garden or in orchard wide,
Appeared Zavgorodniy with pride.
And off he went, the work began:
He paints the city, village, and man,
Ships and simple little boats,
And all without a drop of vodka, he notes.
To jealous ones upon the hill,
He paints the sea with such skill,
That gladly I will give this cheer:
Keep it up! Live a hundred years!