От большого ума [Ot bol'shogo uma] [English translation]

For the brilliant brains – begging bowls and jails.

For the boisterous minds – only ditches and dikes.

For the beautiful souls – only lice and skin sores.

Universal love makes mincemeat out of your face.

Morning dew on the feet, windward in a bed sheet.

From infertile brain pests to ethereal guests;

From the tables that are set to breaches in the heads;

From the closed up doors to the dumb brutes in tombs.

On the course alongside the black satellite flies.

He will save; he will ease; he will deliver us peace.

At the round table in dark ‘neath the wing that is rough.

The bill in red and white: “Hey, buddy, start the pushbike!”

People, do start your motion to the meaningless social,

We will confabulate – how do we arrange our rave?

To work our will upon the land of morons’ spawn,

To sit like a mute mob; to rap on the tabletop.

‘Cause for the brilliant brains – begging bowls and jails;

For the boisterous minds – only ditches and dikes...