Come on, artists, take your palettes, dip your brushes ,
In the hustle of Arbat yards and the dawn,
Let your brushes be like leaves upon the ashes,
Like October leaves on ashes in the morn.
Dip your brushes in the light-blue of the city,
In accord with old tradition of the town,
Paint the picture with affectionate precision –
Me and my love in Tverskaya walking down.
Let the pavement rock a bit as if in waking,
Let the things that haven’t started yet begin,
You’ll be credited with this, jus’ go on painting,
What’s the sense of guessing whether "lose" or "win"?
Paint like judges our fates and our dating,
Our summer, our winter, our spring...
Never mind that we are strangers – go on painting,
Later on I will explain you everything.