A Beauty Contest in the Lady s Jail

Hail Beauty of the Jail!  Hi Lady Charm!

She’s standing dead ahead her cooler-mates,
So suddenly forgetting what she hates.
Rewarded strip to hip
             makes way from her forearm.
 
She’s holding in her knacky-tricky hand
A Japanese recorder, prize-surprise.
The cunning lights are dancing in her eyes:
Four years ago she and her boyfriend
The one like this so swiftly walked away,
But had been caught by cops on their way.
And now as a winner of the game
She got a tape-recorder, just the same.
Oh, Hell!  Oh, Helen! You forgot your shame.
You see your future as a business dame.
You don’t give up. You’re here to survive.
It is your day, contestant number five!

A gambling-house dancer and a thief,
It is a real moment of relief.
That rival Serbian “en route for a decade”,
Compared to you, she simply had to fade.
Remember how you laughed at her unskillful sketch.
A man of dreams that she contrived to scratch.
How easily you beat her on the fly
By drawing the face of your sought-after guy.
Another thing, Natasha.  At your heels
She was, not letting you to quickly oil the wheels.
In sewing she even got first place,
The puppy-killer with a baby face.
When giving hairdos, she was the one
To be afraid of.  Anyway, you won.

You left behind four years in Bastille,
But six protracted months you have to bear still.

      We can’t control fate or run from it away.
      For Bridewell destined one,
      the second – for Broadway.
      And maybe hope lies while promising, as well:
      A blessing in disguise, a cold day in hell.

      But you can beat the clock, and with a bit of luck
      You won’t be mocked. Not even! You will mock.
      Do not give up.  You’re sure to revive.
      It is your life, contestant number five!