Арбатский романс [Arbat·skiy romans] [English translation]

The good old stitching of an Arbat romance,

A great fondness for lonely walks.

Blissful drinks from a misty teacup,

and the absent-minded salutations of women.

Don't bother feeling for me: she's been good to me.

Readily or sadly, the century comes to a close.

Believe me, this lady and I are joined at the hip1,

what would she do without me?

Love is such a strange thing, it's so easy to vanish,

bury yourself, feel dizzy, lose your way...

We all know this devastating passion,

so there's no use in repeating myself.

The good old stitching of an Arbat romance,

A great fondness for lonely walks.

Blissful drinks from a misty teacup,

and the absent-minded salutations of women.

There were those younger days when

I took a stroll, gazing at the blue sky.

The golden years were nowhere nigh,

roses blazed, full of pride.

My stroll didn't look laughable to me back then,

the soles of my shoes were not yet in tatters.

Good fortune beckoned to me from every window

whence music could be heard!

Don't bother feeling for me: everyone shall met his end.

The grass you grow will be trampled by fall.

We started our walk off the Arbat courtyards,

naturally that's where everything shall return.

Even if fate served you the best of luck2

and no matter how sweet or sour3 life had been there,

on a wonderful day at noon, take a look around

and you'll find everything pristine, like before.

1. lit "she's made from my rib", as Eve was supposedly created. The meaning is basically like "thick as thieves" in a much more poetic way2. "even if your good fortune was always first-hand"3. "however well or poorly you had been treated there"