A grenade in my pocket, a pull ring in my hand,
The seagulls sang a song in a language of my land1.
I walked away with swagger: not hiding, not a thief.
A cruiser's upside down, wheels spin in disbelief.
The moon gave up a howl and fog began to lift,
A young wife did not come home as usual from her shift.
This water will be poison, and sound, lights will dim
I’m not returning to you: such friend I’ll ever be.
REFRAIN:
We’re leaving, we’re leaving, we’re leaving,
The times will come more clouded.
Dear, she’s pulsing, in ecstasy blazing,
Vladivostok 2000.
All sailors were dying in the arms of half-drunken gals,
Striped sweaters were torn, and chests were pricked in lust.
My heart will stop to beat, no sound would be heard.
You danced your final dance without hands involved.
Perhaps, they will dig up in a thousand years at best,
From bubble gum wrappers, from coin shards that were left,
Where shores were licked, never reached the wave,
Where rails have got far out of the pocket of the state.
REFRAIN x3
We’re leaving, we’re leaving...
We’re leaving, we’re leaving, we’re leaving...
1. Translator preserved the ambiguity of this line in the original: it seems that gulls are the main subject.