Пацаны [Patsany] [English translation]

Boys were dying, it was so dreadful;

Boys were dying, it was so simple;

And yet there not everyone was that handsome;

And yet there not all of them were tall people.

But when they looked at me with their goggle

Of men, covered with a thick coat of cinders,

Not like bird eyes, and not like sheep’s ones –

Like men’s eyes, they warmed my heart’s cockles.

And I was singing them rock-n-roll ballads,

Telling them that all would be normal,

And I was singing them: “We’re together!”

But it was heard like bein’ banal and formal.

The closer death is, the purer men are,

The fatter colonels are, the nearer the rear is.

Here I saw what could be in that manner

In Moscow, Ukraine and the regions.

Eighteen years–that’s not much, you should know that–

When you’re browsing creep joints with no money,1

And it’s not few when the heart stops on cue,

And then you get a plastic wisp2 from the country.

The country’s singing them rock-n-roll ballads,

Telling them that all will be normal,

And it is singing them: “We’re together!”

But it's heard like bein’ banal and formal.

Boys were dying, it was so dreadful;

Boys were dying, it was so simple;

And yet there not everyone was that handsome;

And yet there not all of them were tall people...

1. Tverskaya street was famous for the crowds of prostitutes hanging out there at the times this song was written2. Here a graphical metonymy is used ("веник"/"венок"->"a broom"/"a floral tribute") so let it be a wisp then