Она не вышла замуж [Ona ne vyshla zamuzh] [English translation]

She didn't marry a limping Jew,

She didn't marry a gray-haired Arab,

She wasn't seduced not by Chicago, nor Beirut, nor Hanoi -

She wanted each evening to come back home.

(She lived on Sumskaya str.)

Her friend used to say: "You're such a fool!

They have such a life, such a culture,

They have Michael Jackson, Madonna,

Van Damme.

If I looked like you - I'd already be there!"

But she never got into provocative disputes,

She was tired of pseudo-overseas conversations.

She'd silently finish her supper, she'd go to bed

With excuse that she must be up very early...

She had a boyfriend, a guitarist and a singer,

People said he was a "full throttle!",

He played Boogie-Woogie, sang Blues and Rock&Roll,

Smoked pot, drank wine, consumed Benadryl.

She loved him - he bedded her,

She wished to become his second shadow,

She patiently waited while he was on the tour.

He'd come back, get drunk and yell that USSR is just shit.

He'd call her "baby", she'd call him "sweetheart",

She didn't feel cramped in her tiny apartment,

When he'd visit her in the nights (around three times a month)

She wanted to scream: "Take me, oh, take me, my love!"

But he'd fuck her in silence, then fall asleep right away,

Then she'd head for the work, and he for the train.

Hotel, wine, TV, a drummer-flatmate,

Sometimes someone else, who'd give him head.

Then she turned out to be a month pregnant,

But a Rock&Roll life excludes sedentism.

Besides, he was invited to a tour in Copenhagen.

And people around said: "He made it!"

Naturally, he didn't come back:

Sure - over there it's paradise, sure - here it's hell.

And her? What about her - she gave birth and lives with her child.

They say, musicians are the most cynical people.

You'd ask: "What else?", but how should I know...

I made this up myself when I couldn't sleep.

Sad Boogie, good old A-minor.

Sure, over there it's paradise and here it's hell.

Nothing to add.