Вятка - Сан-Франциско [Vyatka - San Francisco] [English translation]

In Sun- Francisco, on the street called Indiana

Growing palm trees of marijuana.

Of unearthly beauty are those trees,

And guarding them light blue (gay) police.

Rastafarian- bums are drifting past them,

The once with pockets full of everything;

The cocktails are flowing, and the whisky is splashing

And whirling around square shaped discs.

But here, in Vyatka, huts are under snow and ice;

And who can say- which of us

Being loved more under this sky?

And while we scouring in search for the Heaven,

Someone, while laughing and playing,

Throws into our hearts handfuls of flame-

And there is nothing, except for this day;

And it's all the same- to say "Hello" or "So long",

We don't have the time nor place to return.

There is nothing, except those roads,

While walking with us

Careless gods.