Кладбище [Kladbishche] [English translation]

The sun has set beyond the Himalayas,

Making ready to rise again tomorrow.

Iogin is on his way to the cemetery,

To atone for his sins.

He has a trumpet made of bone.

He begins to play it.

He's summoning the hungry spirits,

To offer himself as food and drink.

They eat up his flesh,

They drink all his blood.

But by morning he's free of sin,

Cleansed of every lousy sin.

And we too are playing trumpets.

There are many of us trumpeters.

We too are offering our blood

To those sated, lousy swine.

So many years and yet they still want more.

Have we really sinned so much?

Of, if only that sun would rise soon,

Over this grave yard of my country.