I

Moscow’s outskirts, a drizzling day,
An old man strolls in the park,
Coniferous scent, pines guide his way,
The branches of the trees are stark.
Despite the rain he walks his dog,

If I were Satan, to the hell
From godly paradise expelled,
I’d wear not my skin of beast
I’d wear a mantle of a priest,
I’d write abstruse religious books,
To get the humans on my hooks,

My country broke down. Did you hear that sound?
A sound of destruction, a roar of disaster,
Reckless decisions and riots all around,
Nobody figured what would be thereafter.

The water on the asphalt glitters with silver,
My feet are too drenched; I will not get a sleep,
Feel cold in my kidneys and pain in my liver
My throat’s desert-dry, my despair so deep.

You, learn to cook us tasty meals
And I will build our home.
You, smile so bright, so that this smile
Could make our dwelling warm.

And pour live water to the soil
And I will plant a tree

I remember the time when I was a kid,
When we played Knights and Queens hand in hand.
We dreamt of a kingdom, we decided to build
A marvelous castle of sand.

You want to soar away on wing of starlit Night
To blinking lights afar, unknown mystic worlds,
Abandoning the past, the remnants of delight,
And throwing out the ballast of unspoken words

When Fall bewails the summer’s shining days
With howling winds and bitter tears of rain,
And gloomy clouds hide the sunny rays,
So I lament lost happiness in vain.