Ларёк [Бородино] [English translation]

I am a piece of the electric train; the night, the station, the eyes staring through the window,

I am the sky in Borodino - as wet as matches.

Streetlights are gnawing the alley, the locomotive is a lump of ice,

There is a horde of crows on the black soot over the cross trees.

An evil transferring, stash swallowing, a little brat been hit with the rifle,

Convicts are sleeping during the rollcall in a dirty puddle by a Stall.

Mr. Chief is riding with a document fluttering on the wind,

While the Time is crying on the railways – we gonna be merry as the morning comes

Life of the ill, coughing is so commonplace, the Heartburn is drinking out of a river,

A bitch is licking ashes and barking after the pointing.

As always it’s deadly cold in the bandaged station,

Rusty medals are falling down from the sky in Borodino!

We were convinced we knew for sure that our life would not be so bitter,

We’d live in warmth, keeping distance, messing about standing by a Stall.

We’ll encircle the Earth with Stalls, we’ll connect the West and the East!

"Crush Mc.Donalds – for I accept only our native stalls!"

Our Stall consoles us all, flutters with a meaning on the wind,

It is a trouble, it is a disco, it is a remedy in the morning.

My Russia, you enter the dreams of many, a prophetic dream is always a nightmare,

Both rich and poor have inherited this gift!

What is given to us in the world, what shall the centuries belch for us?

In the five-roomed flat I’m turning into a drunkard besides the Stall.

Shitheads pour their freedom of lies over my freedom of speech,

Hey, Mr. Chief, tell me again your evil tale!

Whom to be, I don’t know anymore, do we still believe that our steel is strong?

Russia is being finished by the Sunset, is being crucified before the Stall.

Cities are knocking the foreheads of frozen villages with the blue screen,

We pass away too early, leaving after only nonsense.

We made our way beating down the Nazi, beating down the pops,

We were bearing our souls to God, unfortunately, not everyone survived.

The Beauty is cutting the sky in such a spiritual way, as a sigh,

We tear your little pieces with our teeth right down to the empty canvas.

Beauty, you’re here, my dear, you’re out of reach and so hard,

We behold you, cooling our coppers by the Stall.

You’ll save us, I know that for sure, I am your enemy, I am your food…

The Beauty doesn’t fade, she just leaves us from time to time.

But never

We will

Touch

You

But never

We will

Touch

You

Please tell us

How to see you

Through this mud,

Oh, Beauty

Please tell us

How to see you

Through this mud,

Oh, Beauty

Oh, Beauty

Oh, Beauty