Невесёлая песня [Neveselaja pesnja] [English translation]

Our rivers are poor. 1

Through our windows, we cannot see the day

It seems that our mornings are now our evenings

But the night, it's mine...

Looking at the reflecting puddles of water

Half a century ago, our clocks stopped.

The flag kissed by tatters

I'll give half the kingdom for a horse.

Play on, this sad song of mine,

Play on...play...

Elderly army commanders,

Lose the battle, day-after-day,

Their fire extinguished by rain.

We sit with nothing

Telling fortune by the windrose

And when the time comes,

We will sit, and we will wait

So play on, this sad song of mine

Play on...play

1. Poor as-in they lack something (water...that sounds really off for some reason)