Pale lights among branches,
predatory newspapers - daily spoils,
like a wounded dog crazed is the commander,
and all of this is usually called, son -
reanimation
reanimation
Fat horsies, stuffed fields,
juicy cobs, sunny udders,
awaits around the bend the white Horovod,
and this rollicking invisible movie is
reanimation
reanimation
And then an isolated soldier stopped dying,
after all, only thing he's got is a word, just a word - but what kind of word! -
he began to gorge, booze, puke - dismantling himself -
a skull is firmly smashed, and brains flow through the walls -
walls, walls, doors, windows - others were near,
they hastily began to comprehend the state of things
while contemplating about the One, who flows throughout,
out of habit continuing to ritually repeat:
reanimation
reanimation
In the burning-hot park - summer storm,
late gifts, our voices,
somewhere is dimly heard the brass band,
and all of this is usually called, son -
reanimation
reanimation