Правда на правду [Pravda na pravdu] [English translation]

This pitch-dark night the country threw a tantrum,

And changing good to evil, like old money to new,

It tore apart the asphalt that tasted like vodka with bitterness.

And windows, the windows were first to break.

And Evil* on a jerking horse swung its sword,

Good*, always without fists, shook its stump.

Pity* tried to convince, help to come to senses,

But the cavalry rushed faster and more determined.

Applause - on the arena under the star dome

The night released beasts and begged for mercy,

And called out, sweat, suddenly grew old,

And turned pale, and got scared, and stocked up.

What God sent, and the devil, and the devil, and the devil palmed off on them,

But he's an old playgoer after all, ha-ha, he loves make-up.

All bodies suddenly became huge and hollow,

And a drunkard-shoemaker left our memory with blank films.

Truth for truth,

Faith for a holy image,

And the soil for flowers,

It's me, and it's you.

This, this night the country threw a tantrum,

Sunset tasted like vodka with bitterness.

Fear was being cussed out, all intensely; Fear* was wandering around the city.

The night sky was a pillbox**; it looked like someone's beard, too.

The provinces yawned sadly and nervously at TVs,

And some people just went home and ate fried eggs.

Corpses were breathing quietly and steadily under the scalpel of a pharmacist,

And some people were already flaunting their persona on a TV-screen.

The country vomited; bent, it sought help,

And that help was squashing vegetables in stalls with tanks.

Applause, encore! The pageants were roaring everywhere,

Law* was shooting at Calamity*, a sight never seen before!

The country was sobbing with thick rightness, failing to understand the truth,

Resuscitation* being the last resort screeched, whined like a woman.

Pensioners with sticks played ‘gorodki’*** with the police,

And reporters with revolvers were treated to blitzes.

Making the cross, Fate* drank and whored with lucky gamblers,

Toothless old women roamed around with banners sharp like teeth.

Hunger* the cook added enough gunpowder to their thin soup,

Here and there the heroes fired on any rustling.

And Justice* was thinking of taking someone's side,

But then decided, as always, to let the deaths be equally divided.

Yes, these windows, these roofs were first to perish,

All bullets were equal here, all thoughts correct.

Applause, encore! The pageants were roaring everywhere,

Law* was shooting at Calamity*, a sight never seen before!

And only the dressing room of a church was empty, quiet and smelled of incense,

Where sublimity and simplicity were, where there were no barricades of hell.

The church was burning in the sky without smoke or flames,

I knelt down too,

touching this single banner.

Truth for truth,

Faith for a holy image,

And the soil for flowers,

It's me, and it's you.

Last pitch-dark night the country threw a tantrum,

It was scraping over blood covered in frost with a shovel,

And in the mornings all the dirt, all puddles reflected the blue.

Asphalt tasted like vodka with bitterness.

Left as a memento a photo of pyramids with empty windows resembling eye sockets,

Applause, a wonderful view with a maple leaf and titmice soaring.

The future that was just born was crying silently,

And clocks kept ticking, hearts tocking ...

Truth for truth,

Faith for a holy image,

And the soil for flowers,

It's me, and it's you.

Truth for truth,

Faith for a holy image,

And the soil for flowers,

It's me, and it's you.