Moscow was made uncomfortable
With an Easter egg in the middle of lent
Forgot to wash off the char
Of Tsar-domes in the Siberian distances
Zaryadyas drown in lies
Three spans of land, of milky coasts
Flows as a river of kissel
A tear from candles of Holy thursdays
The yards of Khitrovka remember
The spits of consumption, and in a horrid dream
Figures of cranes
Are like a forest of gallows
We pressure, with the Khodynka field
The painful spot of a big country
Quickly, the conscience burns
In a colourful neon of Moscow's lights