Платан [Platan] [English translation]

Screech of telephones, bundles of keys;

You'll leave through the door, and once again you don't belong to anyone.

Bile of defeat, hangover from victory,

But how will you pay for the waters of the dead heat?

I wish I could lean against a sycamore tree,

I really wish I could lean against a sycamore tree,

And it seems to me that all of this is pointless.

Trees and the grass have their own law;

One of us is happy, another one is right.

Brilliant fellowship, oh worthy votary,

With a bird, sown into his pants.

I wish I could lean against a sycamore tree,

I really wish I could lean against a sycamore tree,

And it seems to me that all of this is pointless.

With a bag of yogurt to the Great Wall of China;

You walk behind him, but you can't see his back,

You'll meet him - you won't notice his face;

Forget the beginning - you'll lose the end.

Solemn promises to the better days;

I drink to faithfulness to all the gods with no names.

I drink to you, my love, my friends;

I envy your knowledge, that I am me.

But time will come, I will lean against a sycamore tree;

Time will come - I will lean lean against a sycamore tree,

For now it seems to me that all of this is pointless.